


Fairytale

by Mottlemoth



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age gap relationship, Don't copy to another site, Dysfunctional Family, Fae & Fairies, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Kittens, Love at First Sight, M/M, Magical Realism, Masquerade Ball, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Boys So In Love, Royalty, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Tenderness, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2019-10-24 15:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 97,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17706656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/pseuds/Mottlemoth
Summary: When private secretary Edward Whitby is made redundant at the age of forty-four, his prospects seem bleak. The world around him is changing; he fears he's now destined for the scrap heap.A rather magical opportunity then presents itself.The Seelie Court, royal family of the fae, are in need of a secretary for their son and heir. Prince Leo is twenty-four, strong-minded but shy, and uneasy with the high position he's been born to. In accordance with his duties, his family want him married as soon as possible. They want Edward to help ensure that.Leo himself wants nothing less.And as to what Edward wants...





	1. Redundant

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks - thanks for clicking! If you've enjoyed any of my fanworks, you might enjoy this one too. It's the first book of an original m/m trilogy, set in the modern day with magical elements. This work is rated E for sexual content and a scattering of bad language in later chapters. There's also a low-grade trigger warning for a previously-occurring (mentioned, not described) forceful attempt at seduction which did not progress. 
> 
> Enjoy meeting Edward and Leo. <3

 

 

*

 

"You don't hate me, Whitby... do you?"

It hurt to smile. 

Edward had no choice.

"Not even if I tried, madam." He folded the printed letter and placed it upon its envelope. The pounding of his heart didn't reach his face. The words came from his mouth clean and perfectly formed. "I appreciate the difficulty of the recent financial situation. Please dispense with all thoughts of hatred."

The countess gave him a pained expression, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. A thin rain pattered against the French windows behind her; it had rained all day now.

"If there were some other way..." she said.

_ You would have found one, if you wanted. You would have asked me to find one.  _

"A private secretary is a considerable expense to any household," Edward said, "especially during a recession. My termination will create a lot of breathing room for you all."

She looked down through her eyelashes, distressed.

"Still," she murmured, "it seems dreadful to let you go after all these years... it's purely through necessity."

"Necessity is the best possible reason to let anything go." He wished he could reach out and lay a hand upon her arm—to reassure her or to plead with her, he didn't know—but she'd always valued him for his propriety. This wasn't the time to abandon that. "Sincerely, madam. It's quite alright."

She drew a breath, clearly trying her hardest to believe him.

"Arthur has secured your salary for the next month," she said. "I promise we'll have found you a new position by then. Somewhere wonderful. We'll search day and night, Whitby."

Her eyes brightened as she smiled.

"Your next employer will be lucky to have you."

Edward smiled, too. "Thank you, madam."  _ Tea,  _ he thought. _ Think. Breathe.  _ He'd never wanted to be alone so much in his life. "Thank you for saying so."

 

*

 

_ Monday 8th January 2018. _

_ Unfortunate news. His lordship's gregarious business ventures continue to drop like dominos. Unsurprisingly the man has chosen to raid his wife's purse to stabilise them, and naturally she wouldn't dream of contesting his great wisdom—and so after fourteen years of unwaveringly loyal service, I find myself tossed onto the scrap heap of _

 

Edward stopped.

He inhaled, centred himself and reached for the cup of earl grey steaming at his elbow in the darkened attic room. It was still too hot to drink. He folded his fingers around it, brought it beneath his nose and simply breathed the steam for a while, watching the cursor blink on the screen.

He stripped the entry to its beginnings, told himself he was a professional, and started again.

 

_ Monday 8th January 2018. _

_ An unfortunate turn of events. It seems my position has become untenable for the household to maintain and my employment is to be terminated.  Her ladyship has kindly made it a priority to source me a new position, and so I remain in good spirits. _

_ I confess that I'm rather aware of my age, the specialised nature of my role, and the dwindling social classes I serve. _

_ But there is no sense in panicking before I have something to panic about. _

 

He stared at the draft for some time, holding the cup against his lower lip and letting it warm him. The air in his attic room ran slightly cooler than the rest of the house; he'd never minded it. Continually knocking his head on the sloping roof had been trickier to adapt to, but for a tall man who served those who lived in old buildings, the world would always have its hazards.

 

_ It will be distressing to alter my situation. I'm very much a creature of habit—but then I have little choice in the matter, and whether I find the loss of my familiar environment distressing or not is irrelevant to _

 

Edward took a sip of tea, put the cup back in its saucer and held the backspace key until the paragraph was gone.

_ Such is life, _ he wrote.  _ I will source a new position as swiftly as I can. If the countess's connections can only find me a temporary one, I'll continue my search when I've left. _

He took another drink of tea.

 

_ For fourteen years, I've been content with her ladyship. When I arrived in her service, I was still a young man. _

_ I turn forty-five in September. _

 

The cursor blinked, unmoved by his plight. Edward watched it for some time.

_ It's natural that I'm experiencing some anxiety, _ he concluded, and hit save before he had the chance to delete it.

As he closed down the laptop for the night, it occurred to him that he'd need to source some personal cloud storage or a USB drive. The laptop would stay with the family when he left. Like so much of his life, it had now been revealed for what it was: merely borrowed.

He added it to his increasing mental list of tasks, flagging it as low priority.

He needed a livelihood, first—then he'd worry about personal indulgences like his journal.

 

*

 

_ Friday 12th January 2018. _

_ No responses yet. Naturally I remain optimistic. It's somewhat awkward to keep checking that her ladyship has sent the letters she promised, included the proper contact details, telephoned people to ensure that they received them. I appreciate that it's not in her nature to push people. I appreciate that this situation is uncomfortable for her. And I appreciate that I'm inclined to thoroughness and organisation, and she isn't.  _

_ Someone less discreet might suggest it makes her the kind of person who'd benefit enormously from employing a private secretary. _

_ Obviously I have no comment to make. _

 

*

 

_ Tuesday 16th January 2018.  _

_ Nothing yet. I'm struggling to combine my search for a new position with a panicked rush to put things in order for her ladyship, leave everything as accessible as I can so she has some small hope of organising her own affairs. Today she burst into tears at an error message from her laptop. She didn't like the 'aggressive noise' it made at her.  _

_ I suggested a short course in computing at a local library might be helpful. They would certainly have more time to teach her than I do. She immediately developed a migraine and went to bed. _

 

*

 

_ Thursday 18th January 2018. _

_ Keenly aware of the passing days. I've decided to extend my search into the corporate sphere while we wait for her ladyship's connections to reply to her. So far it's been an unsettling experience. The thought of battling my way into the rat race rather terrifies me, if I'm honest. It terrified me twenty years ago and it terrifies me now. I've left my CV with several recruitment agencies all the same. _

_ I remain positive. _

 

*

 

_ Monday 22nd January. _

_ Still no response to her ladyship's search. I'll confess I hoped to hear something by now. I've had a little too much wine this evening. I feel pessimistic and I ought not to continue writing. _

_ I'm just beginning to kindle an awful feeling that the world changed while I wasn't looking. _

_ Her ladyship's connections tell us the same thing, over and over. They have long-established assistants already—or, like her ladyship, they've chosen to part with them as a cost-saving measure. Vacancies aren't so much thin on the ground as non-existent. The sort of private individuals who require private secretaries belong to a shrinking population and their needs are shrinking with them.  _

_ I don't want to feel this resentment. I don't want to feel this anxiety.  _

 

*

 

_ Wednesday 24th January 2018. _

_ I'm reaching a sorry conclusion to my search in the private sector: I am not a man of business. I never will be. I have some of the skills but none of the teeth. I'm clearly competing with glossy personal assistants half my age, young and vital creatures wielding Starbucks cups.  _

_ I've lost count of the number of entry-level positions I've encountered which baldly require two years of experience.  _

 

*

 

_ Thursday 25th January 2018. _

_ Woken at two o'clock this morning by the miraculous revelation I should be placing adverts online as a private tutor. An hour's research reveals the market is saturated already. Every recent Oxbridge graduate with a decent upper-second has beaten me there. _

_ They all have names like Jake and Sam.  _

_ I have a wardrobe full of day suits, an orthopedic mattress and a single reference for the last fourteen years. I'm not sure I can summon the dishonesty to describe myself as 'flexible and fun to be with'. _

_ God almighty, could he not have given me two months' notice?  _

_ Would it really have cost him so much? _

 

*

 

_ Monday 29th January 2018. _

_ Ten days until I am homeless.  _

_ Today a young lady called from a recruitment agency. She asked me if a private secretary is 'a sort of receptionist'. She asked if I'd be interested in evening shifts at Premier Inn. _

_ Fourteen years. _

 

*

 

_ Wednesday 31st January 2018. _

_ Harder to stay positive. Easier each night to reach for wine than tea. Not sure how the situation could become more clear. _

_ My profession belongs to a concluded age.  _

_ My prospects belong there too. _

_ Her ladyship has given up on making inquiries. She simply cries whenever she looks at me. She tells me she's now so distressed that she's begun to suffer daily migraines. It's just too awful, she says. A man of my calibre, so undervalued by the world. _

_ His lordship plans to turn my room into a studio for his watercolours. _

_ This is happening. _

_ This is happening to me. _

_ My savings will last for a while, if I'm frugal. I hoped to keep them for my helpless old age. _

_ It seems that part has come ahead of schedule. _

 

*

 

With a week remaining until he became homeless, and no notion of his destination, Edward began to pack.

He disassembled the peaceful attic room where he'd lived for fourteen years, wrapping his books inside jumpers to keep them safe. He'd kept the room so organised that most of it came together in a single rainy afternoon. He vacuumed, dusted and polished the shelves, leaving the space as empty as if he'd never been there. All that remained was the narrow single bed, the desk and the wardrobe, with his suitcases propped against the wall.

In desperation, he made calls to extended relations.

A cousin up near Hull offered him her spare room for a short while. She warned him the dogs liked to sleep in there, though. He might have to share.

With four days left, Edward took solace in walking alone through nearby woodland. The dripping of rain from the dormant trees kept him connected to the world somehow. He felt as if he were at risk of blowing away from it all—cut loose like a paper kite and gone. He found himself too weary to be angry, too afraid to be upset. It left him numb and cold.

On his second-to-last afternoon, as he returned with reluctance from another lonely walk, he found a note pinned upon the garden gate. The countess wanted to see him in her sitting room, as soon as he returned.

Preparing himself for a final miserable session of soothing her guilt, Edward changed his walking boots for brogues and headed upstairs.

 

*

 

The countess was not crying. It surprised him at once upon entering the room. She seemed uneasy, certainly, but not upset; an opened letter rested on the arm of her chair. 

She declined to give a reason for his summons until tea had been poured. As he added a single cube of sugar to her cup and stirred it, he tried not to speculate—but it was hard. He had a feeling it wasn't good news, or she'd surely have shared it with him at once. Whatever she was about to tell him, she felt safer doing it from behind a tea cup.

She asked politely after his walk, further increasing his anxiety—then urged him to have a pink wafer. 

Now faintly nauseous, Edward protested a large lunch he hadn't actually had.

Her ladyship took a small sip of tea, a deep breath, and said,

"I...  _ might _ have found you a position, Whitby."

Edward held onto his tea cup. She looked even more uncomfortable than when she'd terminated his employment; it was not an expression he'd expected to accompany this news.

He sipped his tea to cover his concern.

"Might I ask for details, madam?" he asked.

"It's a prestigious family," she replied. He wondered why this had been forefronted. "In truth, I suppose their...  _ pedigree _ is far more impressive than anything Arthur or I can claim. I understand that their time is divided between various properties across the British Isles, with a great deal of the year up in Edinburgh, and that you'd be assigned specifically to a single member of the family."

After fourteen years of managing her ladyship's correspondence, social diary and delicate appetite for gossip, Edward knew every noble family in England—by name and reputation at least, if not by face.

The lack of an offered surname concerned him greatly.

"Which family?" he asked.

Her ladyship paled, visibly squeezing the handle of her tea cup. "It's... a royal family."

Edward's forehead creased.  _ The _ royal family and  _ a _ royal family were very different institutions; he doubted very much he'd been headhunted by Buckingham Palace.

As he searched her face for answers, the penny finally dropped.

Edward's mouth dropped open with it.

_ "Oh," _ he said.

The countess paled even further.

"The good ones," she protested at once. "The seemly court. Not the unseemly. I've been assured at length."

Edward knew little about it—but apparently more than her ladyship did.

"I... believe it's 'Seelie'," he said.

"Oh. I... well, it's the good ones." Her ladyship swallowed. "I've been assured."

Edward found himself unsure what to say. "And they... require...?"

"Y-Yes. So I understand." She filled the silence with detail, more nervous than ever. "It seems my search for a position for you reached the attention of one of their staff... your name was recognised by a 'Caroline Carville'?"

Edward's pulse quickened. "I know Miss Carville. She and I were at Cambridge together."

"Yes. Well, it seems she's now private secretary to..." Her ladyship flushed. "... their, ah, queen—and the family I understand are seeking support for a grandson. The boy is heir to..." She waved a hand.

Edward's head felt as if it were ringing. "How old is he?"

"Twenty-four, I believe. Soon to marry."

_ Hardly a boy. _ "What manner of support?"

"From what I can glean from their letter, it's no different to what you've provided for me. There may be more travel involved, and... well, obviously I imagine there are  _ different _ aspects of life, but..."

The countess hesitated, reading his face.

"Oh, Edward," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so  _ very sorry. _ Fourteen years, and this is all I have to give you."

The silence seemed to ache around them.

Edward realised he was still holding a tea cup. 

He put it down, fearing for its safety. "Caroline remembers me?" he said.

"I believe so. She brought you to the attention of, ah—her mistress—who has now written to me, asking if you might consider the role..." She indicated the open letter on the arm of her chair. "At first I thought perhaps to throw it away, but... b-but as I've failed to secure you anything else..."

Wordless, Edward reached out a hand.

Her ladyship's fingers shook as she passed him the letter.

He looked over it quickly and quietly. The handwriting was unfamiliar, composed in midnight blue ink, and the paper felt as thick and inviting as a snowdrift. At the top of the page, a crowned family crest had been embossed in glinting copper. Edward studied it, letting details rise to his gaze—oak leaves, mountains, stars.

He found his pulse strangely shallow, all his focus now drawn to the words of a woman who signed simply  _ Elspeth. _

She explained that her grandson was a young man of excellent character, shortly to be married and in need of secretarial support to fulfill his considerable expectations. The family had searched for some time to locate a suitable person for the role; the right candidate had yet to be sourced.

On the testimony of her private secretary, she would like to meet Mr Whitby. The family were in residence in Edinburgh at this time. First class train tickets were enclosed. If he called Miss Carville in advance, transport from Edinburgh Waverley could be arranged.

Lost in the letter, it took Edward a moment to realise the countess had begun to cry.

"What must you think of me, Whitby?" she sobbed, dabbing desperately at her eyes with a handkerchief. "All this time, all you've done for me, and all I can secure you is..." She flapped in despair.  _ "This!" _

Edward's grip tightened on the paper. 

"May I please have the train tickets, madam?"

 


	2. Old Friend

Caroline collected him from the station herself. She was waiting on the platform as he disembarked, beaming beside a uniformed driver. The very sight of her turned back two decades of Edward's life in an instant. She'd barely changed since their student days—wry blue eyes, a shock of soft honey-blonde hair and a neat little mouth always on the brink of smiling. She'd retained her preference for pink and peach in her clothing; he even thought he recognised the beaded necklace.

"Eddie!"

"Caroline—" Edward stooped to meet her hug. As she wrapped her arms tight around his neck, his nose pressed into her hair; she still smelled of frangipani and orange blossom.  _ All these years.  _ "I'm so very glad to see you, old friend..."

She drew back to take a look at him, grinning. "Dare we work out how long it's been?" she asked.

"Let's not," he replied, weary at the very thought. Her eyes danced as she laughed. "Thank you very much for inviting me, Caroline... I appreciate it more than I can possibly say."

"Not at all," she said. "I'm thrilled you're here. Thanks for coming. It's a bit of a drive, I'm afraid. At least we can have a catch-up on the way."

 

*

 

For the first twenty minutes, there were pleasantries and news to be shared—gossip pertaining to old cohorts, happy memories of times gone by. Caroline had lost none of her brightness. She was now Auntie Caroline to an ever-expanding horde of nieces and nephews, and bare-facedly confirmed Edward's suspicion there were favourites. She liked the quiet ones, she told him with a grin—the ones who were happy getting books for their birthdays.

At last, with the city behind them and the open countryside shining in the midday sun, Caroline gave him a look of sympathy across the backseat.

"I'm sorry about your job, Eddie. That must have been tough to hear."

Edward smiled faintly, lowering his gaze. 

"In all honesty," he said, "I'd suspected it was coming. The family are comfortable but not wealthy. It was only a matter of time."

"Have you had other offers?" Caroline asked.

It was too distressing to confess outright that they were now en route to his only hope—nor did he wish her to think there was something  _ wrong  _ with him—but he couldn't bring himself to bald dishonesty.

"The job market is rather lean for a man of my skills, I'll admit," he said. "Lean enough for me to search further afield."

She smiled, understanding. "We had over a hundred applicants when we first advertised the position," she said. "We went through an agency, asked for details only to be given to those candidates invited to interview... we invited nearly thirty. Four showed up. All four eventually turned down our offer, even when we added to the salary."

Edward hesitated. "For my peace of mind... approximately how much...?"

"What are you earning now?"

Wincing, Edward told her.

She smiled immediately. "You could ask for twice that. They'd give it to you."

_ Lord.  _ "Then the reason for the low interest in the position is... as one might assume?"

"Mm." Caroline bit her lip. "And yet you're here."

Edward drew a breath. It still felt rather unreal. "And yet I am."

"Have you ever worked with them before?"

"Neither worked with nor met, to my knowledge."

"To your knowledge," she said, with a glitter. "They're good at blending in when they want to."

Edward's heart gave a squeeze. "I hope my ignorance won't preclude me from the position."

"God, no. There'll be some cultural quirks for you to pick up, but when you're dealing with the upper classes, whether they're human or not makes little difference in the end."

"I understand they're addressed as royalty?"

"They  _ are  _ royalty. Take that as your starting point, and you won't go wrong."

"And the young man in need of a secretary is...?"

"The queen's grandson," Caroline said, smoothing down her skirt. "Leo. His mother's the crown princess, and Leo is her only child."

"Is that usual?"

"Not at all. The fact we have a prince is even more unusual."

Edward frowned, curious. He knew so little of this world—a world, by all accounts, which didn't wish to be known about. "Unusual how?"

"Male children are less common," she said. "In the direct royal line, there hasn't been a prince in something like six generations. We've had queens since the nineteenth century."

"I presume male consorts are sourced from other noble families."

"Mm. Some of the younger daughters marry humans, but the direct line stays pure. The prince's father came from the Unseelie Court. That's unusual too, if I'm honest."

Edward paused. "The Unseelie Court are the...  _ other  _ royal family?"

Caroline nodded, the corners of her mouth pulling. "They tend not to get along. It's good to forge ties, though."

After a moment's silence, Edward realised he couldn't continue without asking. He felt woefully unprepared for the encounter ahead of him; it seemed better to ask now, than to wish he had asked. "May I voice a potentially inappropriate question?"

"My favourite kind."

Edward smiled a little, taking his time to phrase it. "I seem to recall that traditionally the Seelie Court are thought to be... 'good'. The Unseelie Court are thought to be perhaps less so."

Caroline hummed. "It's a little more complicated than that."

Edward nodded, silent for a while as he contemplated the strange new corner of reality he was about to walk into. It was unsettling to think he would shortly be meeting these individuals, hoping to join their household. He'd slept very little last night, nervously consulting the internet and concluding that the internet knew nothing.

"I know it sounds like a fairytale," Caroline said. He lifted his gaze to find her watching him, her eyes bright. "Probably because it is."

Edward huffed. "Is  _ that  _ word used?"

She thought about it, humming. "Wait until you're invited," she advised.

 

*

 

It was hard to imagine more picturesque surroundings. Rolling hills of forested green seemed to situate the estate outside time; few buildings were around to blemish the landscape. The house itself appeared at some distance, a baronial mansion with a crenellated central tower facing south-east across the hills. Its crow-stepped gables, ivy-strewn frontage and conical turrets had more than a touch of storybook about them.

Edward's heart quietly sped as he watched it come closer.

It seemed unthinkable that this disaster might yet prove to be a blessing—but he didn't want to be premature in his thinking. A great many facts needed to be ascertained before he could relax into hope. Spectacular as the family home might be, wealthy surroundings were no guarantee of a healthy environment.

Whatever he was about to encounter, he only really knew one thing: he was not at all prepared for it.

As the car travelled through a final short stretch of woodland, he let his thoughts turn to a favourable first impression. He drew a breath and straightened his back, reminding himself of what seemed sensible advice.  _ They are royalty. Take that as your starting point, and you won't go wrong. _

The car then came to a sudden stop, jolting them both to one side. Caroline shifted, frowning, and peered between the front seats.

"Oh, lord..." she muttered.

Concerned, Edward leant sideways to see.

A young lady of around eighteen was standing in the middle of the road, her palms up, a look of expectation on her face. Her dark hair had been bleached and dyed purple at the tips; her oversized sweatshirt declared in bold white capital letters,  _ YEET OR BE YEETEN. _

As they watched, she beckoned through the windshield.

Caroline sighed, took a second to compose herself, then reached for the door handle.

"Delphine?" she called, as it opened.

The young lady gestured to the driver that he should stay put, only leaving her position when she'd received a weary thumbs-up of compliance. She then circled around to the open door.

She leant down into the vehicle, grinning. Her eyes were as dark as her hair, a characterful and flashing black, full to the brim with mischievous charm.

"Alright, Caroline," she said. "Security checkpoint. I've been waiting half an hour."

"Delphine..." Caroline said, fondly patient, "I'm not sure what you're intending to do, but I'll ask with some desperation that you don't."

"Sorry, Caroline. Looks like I'm already doing it." The young lady leant down, peering further into the car. Her eyes sparkled. "Alright, Mr Whitby? I need to borrow you a minute."

Edward stayed exactly as he was, attempting not to look surprised. He wasn't sure he was managing it.

"Delphine," Caroline said again, a little firmer. "This is irregular."

"Yep," the girl admitted, "it is. But I'm under orders. Won't take long."

"Orders from whom?"

Delphine gave her a wry look.

"C'mon. Make a guess." She tilted her head. "You'll have him back in five minutes. Promise."

Caroline breathed a quiet sigh. "Two minutes."

Delphine's face lit up. "Deal," she grinned. She peered in at Edward. "Out you get, Mr Whitby. I'll show you the way."

Edward aimed a concerned glance at Caroline; he received only a smile in reply.

"Go on," she said. "We have time."

Still wary, Edward reached for the door.

As he stepped out onto the leaf-strewn ground, he realised Delphine was already at his side. It made him start slightly; he hadn't noticed her move.

"Was the train alright?" she asked, bright as a bird, and reached over to shut the door behind him. "Good journey, yeah? Delphine, by the way." She took his hand, shook it and dropped it. "Right," she said, "let's go. I'm just the delivery girl."

Without another word, she headed off through the trees.

Bracing himself, with a suspicion his knowledge of the world was about to expand, Edward followed her.

She led him along a scrubbed and winding path for a minute or two, until the car was out of sight between the trees and the sounds of the forest had enclosed them. She hummed as she walked, her tread bouncy. While Edward's coat seemed to snag on every twig and branch they passed, she melted through the shaded greenery with the breezy sense of self that only the young could ever possess.

Checking back over her shoulder, she cast him a twinkling look.

"Nearly there," she said.

"Nearly... where, might I ask?"

She came to a stop, pointing on along the path. "Up there," she said. "He's waiting. Don't worry, you can't get lost."

"'He'?"

Her eyes were not dimmed by the gloom of the forest. If anything, it seemed to make them brighter. "Take your time," she said.

Unnerved, Edward told himself the Caroline Carville he knew would not knowingly have permitted someone to walk into danger. He stepped around the young lady on the path, took his gloves from his pocket, and pulled them on as he walked.

After a short distance, he glanced back. 

He could no longer see any sign of Delphine amongst the trees. Her purple hair should have made her quite visible.

A possibility occurred; it raised the tiny hairs on the nape of Edward's neck.

He inhaled, straightened his back, and carried on.

As he walked, the trees seemed to thicken around him. The path grew harder to see beneath his feet. He tried to guide his focus to the bird song up above him in the canopy, and away from the rising suspicion he'd now walked far further than he was meant to.

After another five minutes, his concern grew too great to ignore. He came to a stop, unsettled, and his breath misted as he glanced around the nearby trees. 

This interview was the one chance between himself and utter ruin—one single opportunity to save himself from legally-defined, actual homelessness. He couldn't risk it by engaging in shenanigans in woodland.

Nervous, he reached inside his coat for his pocket watch.  _ How long have I...? _

"I'm sorry," said a voice from nearby. Edward froze. "I wanted to see you first... you'd be mine, after all."

He turned, pale, to the stretch of path he'd seen empty only moments before.

 


	3. Leo

The sunlight through the trees dappled on his hair as if it loved him. He had a remarkable face, soft-eyed and shy and breathtaking to look upon, his black hair thick with a natural curl. His grey winter coat and the simple white shirt beneath it made his natural charms all the more arresting in comparison. Though he had no shortage of animal beauty, most striking by far were his eyes—as big and gentle as a deer's, so deep in tone they were black.

They were now trained upon Edward with uncertainty, watching him the way any animal or bird might: wary, waiting, quite accustomed to the dangers of his kind.

It took Edward several moments to recall that he himself existed.

When he did, he found his brain shocked and empty. It had nothing to give him. All it knew was this sight, this young man, and the connection of their eyes.

_God help me._

The young man stepped forward, barely making a sound within the leaves.

"Are you Mr Whitby?" he asked.

Edward could only nod, overcome.

"I'm... Leo." The young man paused; hesitation edged his gaze. "You'd be working for me."

As he remembered this young man was royalty, Edward felt his heart reel. _Of course you are royalty,_ he thought—and whether human royalty or otherwise became suddenly the most irrelevant question in the world. He composed himself, retrieved his manners from the forest floor, and lowered his head in the graceful bow he'd mastered twenty years ago.

"Your highness," he murmured.

As he rose, those guarded black eyes awaited him.

"I'm sorry I had you waylaid," the prince said. He watched Edward with care, reading his expression as he spoke. "I wanted to meet you alone the first time."

Edward ignored the slight lift of his pulse. "Quite understandable."

"I know it's not a normal location for an interview. You don't mind?"

"This... is my interview?"

"Mm." Leo gave him a faint, wary smile. "If you still want the job, at least."

 _Lord grant me sense._ "Of course," Edward's mouth responded for him. "Very much."

The prince turned towards the path. "Walk with me," he murmured.

Edward could no more have resisted than grown himself roots and transformed into a tree. His heart beating hard, he joined the prince at his side and they continued along the path together, their footsteps crunching gently through the fallen leaves.

"What interested you in the position?" the prince asked, with a sideways glance.

Edward took a moment to locate an answer it seemed safe to give. "In all honesty, I... find myself a victim of cost-saving measures, your highness. My position of the last fourteen years has recently been terminated. I understand that you're in need."

The prince nodded, considering this. "Do you know what I am?"

Edward's heart tightened. "I do."

"You know who my family are?"

"I've a lot to learn on the subject, but yes."

"And you're human, yourself?"

It felt strangely like a confession—a wrongdoing to admit. "I am."

"None of the others stayed interested, once they knew." The prince lifted his head, watching a small bird flit between two trees. "Why have you?"

Edward searched through his brain for some way to angle his honesty. In truth, he hadn't been in a position to decline the opportunity—but at the heart of it, he thought, the distinction hadn't mattered enough to consider not coming. An employer was an employer.

The young man at his side might just be that employer.

"I didn't see a reason not to apply," he said, simply. "Perhaps I'm missing something."

The prince seemed to like the answer. He considered it for a while, his eyes lowering beneath his eyelashes.

"Have you spent time with my people before?" he asked.

"I'm afraid I haven't."

"Maybe an advantage. What would you say are your strengths?"

Edward replied, his calm growing easier and more natural by the moment.

"I have excellent organisational skills," he offered. "I've been a trusted confidante to my employer for many years, and she's been very happy with my service. My termination was for purely financial reasons. I believe my career history illustrates a great capacity for loyalty."

Even the brief, pleased flash of Leo's eyes was enough to stall Edward's pulse. "You speak very well," the prince remarked.

"Thank you, your highness." Edward took a risk. "I'm told I also write well."

Quiet amusement glittered in the young man's gaze. "And you make a wonderful cup of tea, do you?" he asked.

Edward fought his smile, determined he would maintain some semblance of professionalism here. "I also pride myself on my discretion, have been told I'm an excellent listener, and I can do so in three languages."

The prince tilted his head. _"A bheil Gàidhlig agat?"_

Edward considered the most familiar-sounding word and made a guess. "No, but I'm willing to learn."

The tiny smile rekindled on the prince's mouth. It was no more than a suggestion of a smile, a preface of what might be.

It still made quite a sight.

"And what's your greatest weakness?" he asked.

 _I fear it may be you._ "I... suppose I find it rather difficult to switch off."

"Mm. So do my family." Leo slid his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, drawing a sigh. "They'll like you, then. That's important. I'll admit it wasn't my decision to take on a secretary... Caroline shouldn't have to struggle though, not because of me."

Edward nodded. "I understand you're engaged," he said. "I imagine preparations for the wedding have been time-consuming?"

The prince stopped dead on the path beside him.

He turned to stare up at Edward in concern, reading his face at speed.

"I'm not engaged," he said. His forehead creased. "Who on earth has told you that?"

Edward hesitated, his pulse spiking at once. "Forgive me. Perhaps I misread your grandmother's letter."

He watched the prince's face drop like a stone. "Why?" Leo demanded. "What did it say?"

"She explained that you were shortly to be married," Edward replied, "and need a secretary to—"

"For the love of all the..." The prince inhaled, sharply. "I am _not_ engaged," he said, his eyes flashing, "nor am I going to be. My grandmother was incorrect."

Edward kept his expression clean, even as his mind whirled wildly through possibilities. "I see. I apologise, your highness. I didn't intend any offence."

"I'm not offended," the prince said, wearily. "I'm just _tired_ to the bloody bone of—" He shook his head, shutting his eyes. Another breath softened his tone. "I'm... sorry, Mr Whitby. You couldn't have known. Crossed wires. Do you have a family?"

Edward had the distinct impression the conversation was being shepherded to higher ground. "No, I'm afraid not."

"A wife?"

"Ah, no. A bachelor."

"Married to your work, then."

"In as many words, your highness."

"Then that must have been distressing," the prince said, glancing up at him. "To lose your position, I mean. Did you say fourteen years?"

 _Fourteen years without a blink._ "Ah—yes, I... I'll confess it was unwelcome news."

The prince nodded dimly. "You'd have stayed, otherwise?"

"I... had no pressing reason to leave." Edward paused, hoping a lack of ambition might be an advantage here and not a cardinal sin. From what he'd seen of the modern job market, any goal short of global domination was considered quaint. "I'm somewhat settled in my nature."

The prince smiled a little. "There's nothing wrong with that," he said.

Edward's pulse skittered. "No? I'm pleased you think so."

They began to walk again, slowly, following the path through the trees. There seemed to be more birds around them now. Their songs came clearer, their fluttering shapes more visible between the surrounding branches. They were happier to sit and preen themselves in the sunlight.

"May I ask what the primary duties would be?" Edward said. The prince looked up at him. "I imagine they're similar to my current role."

The prince thought about it as they walked. "Well... from what I've heard, you'd be taking over the things Caroline currently does for me. Managing my schedule, my finances, making travel arrangements. Correspondence. You'll probably help Caroline to supervise the other staff, which I'm sure you don't deserve. Your duties might blur into being a personal assistant... helping me pack for trips, maybe. Getting hold of things I need."

As he glanced sideways at Edward, a touch of humour lightened his eyes.

"Keeping me sane," he said, "if it's still possible."

Edward smiled. "Not such a distant possibility, surely?"

Leo gave him a look both fond and awkward at once, reaching up to push a few overhanging twigs out of their path. "You haven't met my family," he said. "I'd leave your conclusions until then, if I were you."

 _Quite the afternoon of discovery all round._ "The... young lady who brought me here?"

The prince huffed. "Delphine."

"A relation of yours?"

"She's my cousin. Some way down in the succession... it means she's allowed a few more freedoms." The prince glanced up again, the suggestion of a smile back on his lips. "Caroline speaks very highly of you. I hear you were at university together."

Edward's stomach tightened a little, sobered by the reminder of his age.

"Cambridge," he said. "Many years ago now."

The prince nodded. "It means a lot that she recommended you. She's my grandmother's secretary, but... she's very understanding. I like her a lot."

Edward smiled, entirely unsurprised to hear it. "It was kind of her to suggest me."

"I'm glad she did." Leo paused to take a small piece of litter from beneath a nearby bush, crumpling it quietly into his pocket. "How do you feel about cats?"

Surprised, Edward sought for an answer.

"Certainly not opposed to them," he said. "My mother had Russian Blues when I was a boy... they were rather charming."

The prince smiled, quietly pleased. "Working here might be a learning curve for you," he warned. "It's... a difficult place to be, sometimes. My family don't make it easy." His gaze reached for Edward's. "I hope you manage it."

Edward's heart stirred behind his ribs. "I hope I'm given the chance," he said.

The tiny smile returned for all of a moment. Leo looked away between the trees, his eyes lowering.

"You'll need to impress my grandmother first," he said. "Luckily they're all getting desperate now. You'll need to give her a bloody good reason to send you away."

 _Thank god. Thank god._ "I'll endeavour not to, your highness."

The prince huffed. "Bow for her, won't you?" he said. "She'll like that."

"Noted."

"We'll probably have a formal introduction at some point." Leo's eyes glittered. "I look forward to it."

Edward gave him a quiet smile. "Thank you for allowing me an informal one."

"'Allowing you'," the prince remarked, with another spark of humour. "Imposing on you."

"I'm grateful," Edward said, "all the same."

He watched Leo pull at the corner of his lip. "I'd better release you back to Caroline," he said, with a reluctant glance over Edward's shoulder. "Your escort's here."

Edward looked around to find Delphine, amused, leaning against a nearby tree. She dropped him a wink.

He returned his attention to the prince; his heart strained a little.

"Thank you for the opportunity, your highness," he said, dipping in a final bow.

Leo watched him, half-smiling once more. _"'S e ur beatha,_ Mr Whitby," he murmured. "Good luck."

 

*

 

Edward opened the car door feeling rather younger than when he'd closed it.

"That was quick," Caroline said, smiling along the back seat. He settled in beside her. "All alright?"

"Mm, I believe so..."

Before further questions could be asked, the passenger door tugged open. Delphine slid inside, slammed it behind her and checked her sparkly eyeliner in the rear view mirror.

"Alright if I cadge a lift?" she said. "These sneakers have a hole and I'm freezing."

As the car set off again, she wiggled round in her seat to peer at Edward through the headrest. An impish grin filled her face.

"You pass?" she asked.

It was hard not to return the smile. "I suppose we'll see," Edward said, neatly.

Her black eyes twinkled.

"You passed," she said, without a flicker of doubt. "Now the hard part. Gotta take down my granny."

 

*

 

By the end of the cherry tree-lined drive, with the open front doors of the house in sight, Edward had almost begun to doubt his senses. Only the sight of Delphine's bright purple hair gave him reason to believe it had happened at all.

As the car pulled up outside the house, she took her leave of them.

"Later, Caroline," she said, shunting open the door before they'd stopped. "Later, Mr Whitby. Break a leg." She thumped the driver on the shoulder. "Later, Alan. Stay cool."

She slipped out through the door and slammed it.

Edward watched through the windshield as she strolled into the house, hands slung low in her pockets and whistling.

He allowed himself to smile.

"I won't tell you they're _all_ like that," Caroline remarked, fondly.

Edward said nothing, still rather dazed. Part of his soul was still strolling through the woods; he couldn't stop seeing those fleeting, shadowed smiles.

"What did you think of Leo?" she asked. His heart performed a small somersault he was going to have to learn to suppress. "Did he take to you?"

Edward spoke with care.

"The prince is a remarkably intelligent and thoughtful young person," he said. "He has an emotional honesty unusual for his age."

The corners of Caroline's mouth upturned. "You were always good with words, Eddie."

They stepped out of the car, closed both doors, and watched it pull away around the side of the house.

Edward turned his eyes upwards, taking in the crest carved in stone above the door.

"Caroline?" he said.

She paused at his side. "Mm?"

"Why does the prince's grandmother believe he's soon to marry?"

He heard her restrain a sigh. "Did that come up?" she said. "You were only gone a minute."

"I get the impression there's been a colossal difference in opinion somewhere."

"Putting it mildly." She gave him a guilty glance. "If you ask Elspeth about it, the marquee's booked, the band's been hired and Leo's shoes are polished at the end of his bed."

"And who is the lucky young lady?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

She pulled at her lower lip. "TBD."

"A rather vital component of a wedding," Edward noted, "the bride." He tilted his head. "Surely there hasn't been a shortage of candidates."

"God, no. Leo's our first crown prince in two hundred years. We're falling over eligible young ladies these days. Can't move for the poor creatures."

"And yet..."

Caroline clucked her tongue. "And yet."

Edward prepared his next question with care, suspecting by the entirely neutral expression on her face that she knew what was coming.

"In kindness to an old friend," he said, "who is possibly on the verge of becoming professionally involved in this situation... is there something obvious preventing an engagement?"

She tried a smile. "You've met him, Eddie. He's a sweetheart. Any girl would be lucky."

Edward held her gaze, undeterred. "There are no... _quirks of character_ I should be aware of?"

"Nothing that comes to mind," she said.

Edward moved his tongue around his cheek. They would stand here by the door until trumpets sounded, if he didn't spell it out for her.

"He's gay, Caroline, isn't he?"

Caroline bit her lip. "I was planning to wait for your expert opinion."

"As I didn't see him involved in congress with another man during our ten minute conversation, I have no 'expert' conclusions to draw."

"But... speaking as one who knows..."

"Has he had boyfriends in the past?" Edward said. "Or at least attempted to?"

"Genuinely, Eddie, I don't know. He's very private. There was seven years at boarding school. I hate to say anything could have happened, but..."

Edward fished his pocket watch from inside his waistcoat with a frown. This situation was already entangling him, and he hadn't yet been offered the job.

"I remember boarding school," he said, checking the time. "You're entirely correct."

Caroline gave him a faint smile. "Shall we head on in?" she said.

"Yes," he replied, closing the watch with a snap. "Let's."

They stepped into the mosaic-tiled reception hall, which seemed a little dark out of the winter sunlight. A uniformed maid appeared to take their coats. As she assisted Caroline, Edward took the opportunity to glance around. It appeared much like all the country houses of his acquaintance. There were rather more living plants, perhaps; plantlife evidenced too in the decor, the wrought iron balustrade of the staircase wreathed with ornamental vines, and the mosaic underfoot offering a variety of stylised flora—but it seemed a quite ordinary, if grand, family home.

A Norwegian forest cat with silver tabby markings watched with interest from a doorway as the maid took Edward's coat.

He watched the cat in turn, wondering.

Caroline led the way up the staircase, across a galleried landing and along a wide corridor lined with oil portraits of dark-eyed, stately women, richly attired and often holding flowers. She brought him to the doorway at the very end of the corridor, knocked with the back of her hand and waited.

After a moment, there came a call from within.

Caroline gave him a bracing glance, a flash of her eyebrows, and opened the door.

 


	4. To Your Liking

The scent of lavender reminded Edward at once of of his mother's dressing table as a boy. It was the only scent she'd ever worn, all others considered cheap and artificial. The steady ticking of a clock somewhere gave the space a certain gravity; everything was orderly, decorated with the gentle florals so redolent of an elderly lady.

As they entered the room, the lady in question paused in her crossword puzzle. She put down her pen, peering at them over her reading glasses.

Caroline led Edward across, smiling as they reached the duck-egg blue settee.

"Ma'am," she said, warmly, "may I introduce Edward Whitby?"

The queen made no motion to rise, but regarded him with interest.

Thinking of her grandson, Edward stepped forward. He lowered himself to his knee and inclined his head. "Your majesty."

When he lifted his gaze, he found her smiling.

She had her grandchildren's eyes. In a lady of her age, the dark irises gave her a look of almost startling shrewdness; Edward expected she could be rather fun when she wished to be.

She extended her hand to him, palm downwards, her fingers lightly closed.

He took her hand and kissed it.

As he let go, she gave a wave for them to sit on the settee opposite, transferring her puzzle book at last to the cushion by her side.

"Bring tea, Caroline," she said.

Edward took a seat, feeling somewhat over-tall on her antique settee. This furniture was not designed for someone of his stature. He placed his hands upon his triangled knees, and met her searching black gaze with polite interest.

She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. The gold rim of her glasses seemed to glint.

At last, her small mouth curved. All her wrinkles deepened.

"I like the look of you," she told him.

Edward couldn't suppress a smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Caroline says you're bright," she added. "That's good. You'll need to be around here. "

His pulse quickened. "I certainly try."

"Some of the servants are your type," she said, which he took by her pointed glance to mean human. "Not many, though. You'll have to have your fill when we're in London."

"London, ma'am?"

"Once a year or so. Social season. The house in Belgravia." She sniffed. "I tire very quickly of the noise. The people. The young ones can hack it for longer, but I need my peace and quiet."

"I quite sympathise."

"Elena would have them all down there the year round, if she could. You'll have that to look forward to when I'm gone." She began to pat the pockets of her quilted gilet, searching for something. "Leo hates it there as much as I do," she added, with a weary glance. "He'll give you hell."

He tried not to seize upon the certainty inlaid within her words. "Elena?"

"Leo's mother." She located the correct pocket at last, unzipping it. "My eldest."

She retrieved two wrapped honey-coloured mints from inside, pressed one into his hand without a word, and unwrapped the other.

"Then again," she went on, popping it into her cheek, "if anyone should be in London, showing his face, it's the boy... maybe it'd be for the best. Of course, that means I'd be in the ground without seeing him married, and gods know that's not going to be happen. Are you married, Mr Whitby?"

"Ah—I'm afraid not, ma'am. Life has led me down another path."

"I had Angus for forty-four years," she said. "Lost him just after the millennium. Seems like yesterday."

Leo would have been six or so, Edward thought—not an easy age to lose a relative. "Does the prince remember his grandfather at all?"

"I can't imagine so," she said, dismissively. "Only a nipper. Now, Mr Whitby—to business—as no doubt you realise, I'm keen for my grandson to be hoisted out of his shell this year. The boy's twenty-five in April. He has expectations, and he has duties, and plenty of both. He shan't fulfil any of them by hiding himself away, trailing through the woods from dawn 'til dusk. Do you see what I'm telling you?"

"I believe so, ma'am."

"His mother's in agreement with me," she went on. "He needs to be _seen._ I'll be asking Caroline to co-ordinate with you, make sure his schedule keeps him occupied and visible. He's a prince. Not a hermit. It's high time he started acting like it."

Edward nodded, ignoring the slight grip of his heart. A memory stirred in the back of his mind. _'I'm sorry to have had you waylaid... I wanted to meet you alone.'_

"There'll be potential brides to keep track of," the queen said. "That's _most_ important." She fixed him with a beady glare. "We've been lax until now. It means he's weaselled out of at least ten perfectly good matches, offending ten noble families in the process. No more, Mr Whitby. I want you keeping the ship steady through this entire business, with Caroline's help. You'll have a lot to learn."

It seemed the point Edward had some choice in the matter had slipped past without his notice.

He thought quietly of Leo—those faint, guarded smiles—the forest's light upon his hair.

He gave a quiet nod.

"I understand, ma'am," he said. "That shouldn't be a prob-"

"Good," she said. "Wonderful." The door opened with a squeak. "Excellent, here's Caroline."

Caroline crossed the room with a hopeful smile at Edward, laying the ornate silver tray down between them. Her majesty took her tea traditionally, it seemed—tiny sugar tongs, a strainer, hot water to refresh the pot.

As Caroline arranged the cups, Edward placed a hand upon her arm.

"Allow me," he said. She smiled, settling into the seat beside him. "How do you take your tea, ma'am?"

"Two sugars," the queen replied, "and strong. If the spoon doesn't stand up, it's not tea."

"Quite right," Edward remarked, stirring the pot. He glanced at Caroline. "Generous with the milk and one sugar?"

Her face opened in a smile. "You remember."

"Of course I remember, Caroline... heaven knows we made each other enough of the stuff." He poured the queen's cup first, well aware of her assessing gaze. _"'Tea does our fancy aid, repress those vapours which the head invade, and keeps that palace of the soul serene'."_

Caroline bit into her lip. "I should know this," she said.

Edward lifted a reproaching glance to her, stirring in two cubes of sugar.

"Edmund Waller," he said. "Our tutors would be appalled." He placed the cup with care before the queen. "I hope that's to your liking, ma'am."

As he poured Caroline's cup for her, he saw the queen reach across to Caroline's knee. She patted her secretary, fondly.

"Find him a room," the queen said. "A nice one."

Edward masked a smile.

He saw Caroline mask hers, too. "I shall, ma'am."

"And attend to salary and so on, won't you? All the particulars."

"Yes, of course."

"See that he has everything he needs." The queen reached for her tea. "Has my grandson resurfaced yet?"

"I saw him briefly downstairs in the lounge," Caroline said, taking the cup Edward handed to her. "I told him you might want to see him. He said he'd be up in a few minutes."

"Mm. Good." As Edward topped up the pot with hot water, there came a quiet knock upon the door. "Prompt," the queen noted, dimly surprised. She took a loud sip of tea. "I should think so, too. Enter!"

The door opened.

"You wanted me?" asked a voice. Edward replaced the lid of the teapot with care, his eyes low.

"I did," said the queen. "In you come."

As the young man approached, Edward braced himself for impact and lifted his gaze.

Leo's winter coat had been exchanged for a pale blue jumper. It was slightly too long in the arm for him; the softer fabric made his features seem ever more gentle.

"This is Edward Whitby," the queen said. Edward put the teapot aside, calm, and rose to his feet. "Mr Whitby—my grandson, Leo."

The prince came over to them, watching Edward with care.

"Mr Whitby's taking up the position of your private secretary," his grandmother informed him, in a tone that suggested no protest would be brooked. "Effective at once. He's highly suitable and should set you a sterling example."

Leo's gaze flickered.

"I didn't realise I was in the market for a private secretary," he said.

"Of course you didn't," the queen replied, with a sip of tea. "Otherwise you'd have been involved in the decision making, and we all know how that goes, don't we?"

The prince's eyebrow lifted but a fraction. "I have no say in the appointment, then?"

"You do not," came the crisp reply.

"In that case." Leo drew a breath, extending his hand. "Welcome to Cridhe, Mr Whitby. I look forward to working with you."

Their palms met.

"Excellent," said the queen, as they shook—and though she continued to speak, warning her grandson that his new private secretary was to be shown every possible courtesy, Edward processed only the broadest of details. He was too busy looking at Leo. The prince's grip was firm, his eyes bright. The contact between them lasted just a moment too long.

"Come and sit," the queen commanded. The two of them duly came and sat. "Have some tea. Then you'll show Mr Whitby around the house and make him very welcome, won't you?"

"Of course." Leo watched as Edward laid a cup out in front of him. "How kind."

"Not at all." Edward reached for the pot. "How do you take it, your highness?"

"Milk, but no sugar..." Leo adjusted a thread upon his cuff; he tucked it carefully beneath his sleeve. "Thank you Whitby."

 

*

 

"Congratulations on your appointment." They ascended the staircase side-by-side together, their footsteps soft upon the dusky red carpet. "I'm glad she liked you."

Edward half-expected to wake up in bed at any moment. The brush of the bannister beneath his fingertips was a comfort, anchoring him to reality.

"Thank you, your highness. I'm glad, too."

As they reached the top landing, Leo indicated the way. "My rooms are in this half of the house," he said. "There's a study. If it suits you, you're welcome to it."

"That sounds wonderful. Thank you."

They made their way along the corridor, quite comfortable in each other's quiet. With a glance to ensure they were alone, Edward remarked,

"You seem to have been more informed of the recruitment process than your grandmother perhaps knew."

The prince huffed.

"She's happy when she thinks the world runs according to her wishes," he said. He reached into his back pocket, retrieving a small brass key from inside. "I want her to be happy."

He led them to an unmarked door at the end of the corridor, opened it, and stood back for Edward to enter.

The sitting room beyond was brightly-lit by an impressive bay window, framed on each side by narrow and well-stocked bookshelves. A fireplace and sitting area dominated the right-hand wall, while to the left, two closed doors indicated further rooms. The decor was rather more traditional than Edward imagined a young man would have chosen for his own—walnut wood, navy velvet upholstery, an insistent abundance of heraldic arms. There were rather a lot of cushions; the furnishings were all covered with tartan fleece blankets. With a second glance Edward noted the widespread scattering of cat toys. Fabric mice, colourful feather tufts and balls with bells inside peeked out from every available hiding place, stashed under furniture and tucked into corners.

"Maggie." Leo bent to retrieve a crinkly velvet snake from by the door, tossing it safely to a cushion on the couch. "When she doesn't have kittens, she finds some... I have a feeling she's expecting again. Leaving things all over. Not gathering them up."

He drifted towards the other doors.

"Mine," he said, touching one, with no further explanation. He opened the other with a stiff squeak of the handle. "Here..."

The study was twice the size of Edward's slanted attic room. Row upon row of unused shelves waited for purpose; the view from the window across the surrounding woodland almost took his breath. It felt warm in here, quiet, and as peaceful as a library.

"You'll need a laptop," Leo noted, dimly. He trailed his fingertips along the antique desk. "Some other things... then, you'll be managing my finances. When Caroline's given you the keys, order whatever you need. You don't need to ask."

Sensing Edward's pause, he glanced up.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

Edward contained himself at once, silencing his rioting emotions with a breath.

"Not at all. This is more than satisfactory. Thank you."

Leo processed this in silence, reading his face.

"When can you start?" he asked.

Edward's stomach tugged with the thought. "Immediately," he said. "I'll need to return for my luggage, and to take my leave of my current employer, but..."

"Sure you're happy on the train?" Leo smiled a little. "I can arrange a car, if you'd prefer."

"Quite happy, your highness. A car won't be necessary."

The prince's eyes glittered. "You're easily pleased."

"So it seems," Edward said. His heart felt as if it were expanding past the point of containment. _Snatched from the jaws of disaster,_ he thought. _Thrown up to heaven's shelter._ "And you're happy with my appointment?" he checked. "I wouldn't wish to have been forced upon you."

Leo's smile tightened. He lowered his gaze.

"If I weren't happy, you wouldn't be standing here. I'm more than capable of making my own decisions."

Edward smiled. "I'll return for my suitcases tonight, then. I imagine I can be back here tomorrow evening."

His new employer nodded. "Friday," the prince remarked. "You'll have the weekend to settle in..."

_My new life. My new home._

It seemed too incredible to comprehend.

"I... meant it, Whitby." Leo raised an eyebrow. "Quite the learning curve."

"I'll learn quickly, your highness." A question returned to Edward's mind; he tilted his head. "'Cridhe'?"

Leo gestured all around them.

"Cridhe," he said. "This place you now reside."

"Gaelic, I assume."

"Mm."

"Does it have a meaning?"

"It does," the prince replied. He leant back against the desk, crossing his ankles one over the other. "It means 'heart'. The family are the heart, you see... the centre. All health and vitality flows from us." His teeth pressed into his lower lip. "So goes the idea."

There came a pause.

"Can I warn you about something?" he said. "Seeing as we're getting along."

Edward's pulse stepped upwards. He kept it off his face. "Yes, of course."

"They'll... want your help." Leo turned his gaze sideways to the window. "My mother and my grandmother. Something of a recent project for them. They'll ask you to talk me into it."

His lips thinned.

"Promise them you will," he said, eyes flashing into Edward's. "Then never mention it to me again."

Edward inhaled.

"I've become aware there are certain expectations regarding your future," he said, carefully. "I'd be unsurprised to hear you've been subjected to pressures."

 _"Considerable_ pressures." Leo's jaw tightened. "And if you're half as quick as you think, you'll give up before you start. You'll guard me from it and I'll treat you well. Do we understand each other?"

Edward processed this, his pulse still raised. The anger in the prince's gaze was hard to see. Ferocity didn't suit him; it reminded Edward of an injured creature, frightened enough to bite, wanting desperately to be left alone with its pain.

He constructed his response with care.

"As far as I'm concerned," he said, "the person to whom I'm assigned as private secretary is the person I've been brought here to serve. That person's welfare will always be foremost in my mind."

"Easy words to say," the prince remarked. His expression didn't move. "Easy words to forget."

Edward held his gaze. "I forget very little."

The prince said nothing, still searching his face.

Edward allowed him to search, unafraid, willing the boy with every fragment of his being to listen.

"I worried being an outsider to your race would stand as a weakness," he said, quietly. "Now I offer it to you as reassurance. I am human, your highness. This means I'm not a subject of your family. Their ranks and titles will receive my respect, yes—but _you,_ as my employer, will receive my loyalty."

He watched the black eyes soften. Leo wanted to believe him.

He inhaled in silence and took a risk. "May I ask you now, privately, before my employment begins, if there's a reason?"

The prince swallowed. Edward watched his throat muscles work. "I don't know what you mean."

"Is there a reason you're reluctant to choose a bride?"

Leo took a second to respond.

"Meet my parents," he said, his expression empty, "and you'll see." His gaze flickered. "I don't like 'your highness'. It's... I don't like that."

Edward nodded gently. "How shall I address you?"

"Just... Leo." The prince looked away. "When we're alone. Not in front of—"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"They'll expect you to—"

"I know." Edward gentled his voice, ignoring the hammering of heart. "You're in an incredibly difficult position, and I understand that. You said keeping you sane will be part of my duties. I intend to do so."

A visible tremor ran through Leo's shoulders.

"You're a fool to come here," he said. His voice broke. "But I don't have the heart to warn you to leave. You seem nice. I... want that. For once."

Edward's chest ached.

"Your interests are now my interests," he murmured. "I assure you they're in good hands."

Leo said nothing, still looking down at his feet.

"My appointment will ease a great deal of pressure on you," Edward added, quietly. "I'll act as a filter between you and your grandmother. That alone will help. I promise."

Leo swallowed once more. "I h-hope you're what you seem, Whitby. Truly."

Edward's heart squeezed.

He hoped so, too.

 

*

 

As the car pulled away from the house, Edward found himself overcome with the strange and unsettling need to look back—to see Cridhe disappear from his sight. The urge was almost childlike in its potency. _I wish to remember. I wish to find my way back._ It left his lungs drawn tight, his skin a little cold.

He shifted, unnerved, and contented himself with a glance in the rear view mirror.

He found his eyes skimming instinctively between windows. He didn't quite know what he hoped to see.

Whatever it was, he didn't see it.

By the time they reached the woods, he'd mastered his surreal surge of emotion. He found his thoughts turning to actions, progress and priorities. He could feel something starting; he had a great deal to do.

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, his fingers brushed a small foreign object nestled down inside. Frowning, he fished it out.

It was a honey-coloured mint.

With a smile Edward unwrapped it, slipped it into his cheek, and began to compose his resignation letter on his phone.

 


	5. Superstition

The next afternoon, with eight minutes remaining until departure, Edward boarded the 16:49 service to Edinburgh Waverley. To his surprise, he found it almost deserted. A few heads lifted as he passed with his suitcase, though it seemed an uneventful journey lay ahead. Supposing a surge of commuters might join the train after five, he took his phone from the inside pocket of his coat and loaded the seat reservations Caroline had e-mailed through that morning.

_First class._

He didn't know why it made him smile. In a way, it rather seemed to reflect his prospects—an upgrade he couldn't possibly have expected, in circumstances as surprising as they were welcome.

He proceeded, still smiling, to the front of the train.

Eight minutes later, with a cup of darjeeling, plentiful leg room and a folded copy of The Times for later, he felt the gentle jolt that signalled the end of life as he knew it.

For a while he simply watched the passing landscape and marvelled, finding himself quite incapable of anything else. Monumental moments in life had been few. Though none had ever passed without some degree of reflection, it was rare for him to feel so peacefully glad. A warm sort of awareness now filled his senses. He became conscious of his hands, resting upon his abdomen; conscious of the world as it passed; conscious of the gentle bobbing of his foot with the motion of the train. It all seemed curiously natural and easy.

As he came to the quiet conviction that everything was unfolding as it should, he allowed himself a sigh.

It had been days since he'd been able to write in his journal. Even last night, with a head full of thoughts he'd dearly wished to keep, he'd been too busy with arrangements to have time to record them. Caroline had kindly ordered a laptop for him; apparently it had beaten him to Cridhe, and was already waiting on his desk. His journal resided on a USB stick in his pocket. The two could make their acquaintance when he got there.

For now, old-fashioned pen and paper would have to do.

He retrieved his fountain pen from his pocket and asked the attendant for a few sheets of lined paper, which were graciously provided.

With the early February sun now settling upon the horizon, he began to write.

 

_9th February 2018_

_I find myself indentured to the faerie prince._

 

The pen hovered for a moment over the page, ready to strike.

It lowered its nib and continued.

 

_His name is Leo, and he is heir to a royal line no less illustrious than any human one. If my scant knowledge of his people's history serves me, their monarchy far predates Hengist and Horsa._

_They are of course a closed community. By their nature, and no doubt honed by costly encounters with humanity, they are also somewhat secretive. Until yesterday afternoon I had no experience whatsoever of their world._

_I'm now travelling to take up employment in it._

 

Edward took a sip of tea, watching the scenery as he collected his thoughts.

 

_I'm under no illusions about the challenge awaiting me. I have a great deal to learn—and while I learn, a delicate situation within the household will require careful handling. The prince's reluctance to marry has become a point of contention with his grandmother. Attempts to dismiss his discomfort have clearly left him feeling isolated and defensive, and the disagreement is now at a stalemate._

_The presence of an intermediary should already ease the situation. Sharper words can be tempered, hot emotions cooled. More productive discussions can be held._

_At the very least I can secure the poor boy some breathing room._

_A few months or years without pressure might be all it takes to warm him to the idea. A purely dynastic marriage could become an option. He might meet someone. We shall have to see._

_It seems a rather high stakes game to play._

_But I believe I can ensure that everyone will win._

 

He paused, gathering his courage.

 

_My featureless years with my previous employer led me to within a breath of ruin, after all. It transpires that a simple life has no guarantee of security. Stretching myself won't imperil my fortunes any more than quiet loyalty did._

_I'd rather like to help Leo, too._

_He seems_

 

After a full minute's pause, Edward laid down his pen. He reached for his tea cup and held it in both hands, silent as he tried to find the words.

He wasn't sure he could construct Leo from paper and ink. He found his thoughts returning over and over to Leo's eyes—the way they'd searched his face, wary, always waiting for something. In Leo's grandmother, those dark eyes imparted a warning that no attempt should be made to lie. Leo, meanwhile, seemed almost unsettled to read a face and find truth there.

He had the kind of thoughtful and sensitive nature which was profoundly unsuited to power.

Proper support would mask it. Sustained support would alleviate it. It would take time, though—time and a great deal of care.

Edward lowered his eyes to the rim of his cup, taking a sip.

The task didn't seem daunting, no matter how many times he wondered if it should. The truth was that if he tried, he could take himself back to the forest in an instant. He could still hear the soft crunch of their footsteps and feel the gaze of the greenery all around, ensuring he caused no harm to their prince.

He wasn't the type of man to humour thoughts such as, _if I were twenty years younger._ If he had been, he might have humoured them now.

 _It is easy to feel protective,_ he concluded.

He inhaled, placed his salvation in darjeeling, and picked up his pen.

 

_as if he would be worthy of the time spent on him. I believe he and I will work very well together._

_To be employed, and not homeless, is wondrous enough to make me grateful._

 

*

 

By the time the car reached Cridhe, darkness obscured every feature of the landscape. The house's uplit frontage was the only thing to be seen for miles; it made an almost painfully welcoming sight.

Edward watched it draw closer with a strange, almost fluttering sensation of relief. _It is still here._

The driver—a gentleman named Alan who hadn't made a word of conversation all the way here—got out of the car to help him with his suitcase.

As they hefted it onto the gravel driveway with a thud, an odd noise caught Edward's notice. He lifted his head, glancing in the direction of the house.

It sounded rather like shouting.

Beside him, Alan huffed.

"Thought we were overdue," he muttered, picking up Edward's case. "Been a couple days."

He led the way towards the house. Quietly concerned, Edward shut the boot of the car and followed.

The shouting grew more audible with every step. At the door, Alan stood aside to give him the honour of going first.

Edward pressed his tongue behind his teeth, twisted the handle and stepped inside.

The entire hall rang with the argument. It took Edward a second to realise he was hearing only two voices and not a crowd, such was the volume at which they were screaming. Closest to him, a lady in her earliest sixties with dishevelled blonde hair and a burgundy wrap dress was shouting through tears towards the staircase. Halfway up it, a man in dark jeans and a fitted white shirt was shouting back at her. Initially Edward took them for the same age, then looked again—the gentleman's rather rugged appearance and short beard aged a younger face. He made an intimidating presence, broad in shoulders and neck, and handsome in a way Edward had long since learned to avoid. His piercing black eyes flared as he raged down at the woman.

With a glance, Edward noted wedding rings.

As he arrived into the entrance hall, discreetly lowering his eyes, the couple continued to scream at each other. He couldn't quite ascertain the cause of the dispute, nor was it his place to do so. He removed his gloves as he waited, folding them into his pocket.

As Alan dropped his case beside him, the clunk was enough to jolt them both from their flow.

The man on the stairs took hold of the banister, his jaw set. "And who the hell are you?" he demanded.

His wife stiffened. "Rex—"

"Can we do something for you, mate?" the man barked. "Or are you just here for the show?"

Edward assumed his most neutral smile.

"Forgive me," he said. "I'm sorry to intrude. My name is Whitby—I'm the prince's new secretary."

As his wife covered her face with her hands, Rex's expression twisted in confusion.

"Secretary?" he repeated. _"Leo?_ Since when's he had a secretary?"

"Since yesterday, Rex." His wife drew herself tall, attempting to breathe back her tears. "Mr Whitby's going to be assisting Caroline with—"

"What does he need a secretary for?" Rex interrupted. "Are you lot actually _trying_ to burn money now? 'Cause you can throw some my way. _I'll_ find a use for it."

"Recently Caroline's been struggling to handle—"

"Right. Of course. God forbid Caroline has to type _two_ letters a day."

_"Rex—"_

"Was I going to be consulted on this?"

 _"Why_ would we—"

"Christ! Why do I need to ask? _Why would you,_ Elena. Why would you do something so _completely bloody stupid_ as to ask me about _anything_ going on around here."

He turned, storming away up the stairs as his wife laid her hands across her face once more.

On the upper landing he stopped, turning back.

"Welcome to the madhouse, mate. Don't unpack, will you?" He looked Edward up and down, unimpressed. "You human?"

Edward answered without a hitch in his smile, as polite as if they were exchanging small talk over canapes. "I am, sir."

Rex grunted.

"All we need," he said. He strode out of sight; a door slammed.

A picture frame dropped from a nearby wall.

In the silence which followed, Elena drew a long breath behind her hands. She removed them from her face, wiped her fingers beneath her eyes, and turned to Edward.

"I can't apologise enough," she began. Her eyes were black and soft; she hardly dared to look at him.

Edward lowered his voice, offering her a look of reassurance. "There's no need, madam. Truly."

She attempted an airy laugh, still visibly close to tears. "N-Not quite the welcome I'd have..."

"It's quite alright," Edward said, willing her to believe him. He could see echoes of someone else in her features: her long eyelashes, her cupid's bow. "Am I correct to assume that you're the prince's mother?"

She swallowed back a bubble of distress. "Yes," she whispered. "I am E-Elena."

Edward bowed at once, taking the hand she offered him. He kissed it with care.

"Your highness." She seemed a little soothed, finding the faintest of smiles for him. "I'm afraid my train was delayed out of Newcastle. I was expected a little earlier."

"I-It's quite alright." She glanced at his cases, still trying to regulate her breathing. "Well, I... I'm sure Alan will give you a hand—won't you, Alan? I think Caroline said she'd put you on the second floor if I'm right. Let me see if I can find her for you. Do excuse me."

She hurried away through an archway off the hall, hurriedly wiping her eyes. The swift click of her footsteps followed her.

Edward glanced aside at Alan—who raised one weary eyebrow.

"Yup," he sighed, picking up Edward's case.

 

*

 

The room was entirely comfortable. Edward had not only a queen-size bed but a sitting area with large window and settee, three separate bookshelves, and through a doorway his own private bathroom. It seemed more like a room for family than for staff.

As he trailed his fingertips along the edge of the claw-footed bath, Edward reflected that his position here clearly held some degree of weight.

In most eyes, at least.

"You're not taking it personally, are you?" Caroline asked, biting her lip.

Edward cast her an amused glance, undoing his coat with one hand. "Heavens, no. The man was clearly an abrasive moron long before I crossed the border."

Her eyes twinkled. "I hope he doesn't give you any trouble."

"If he does, then so be it." Edward slipped his coat down his arms. "Anything I can solve by being excessively polite to someone has never struck me as much of a problem."

"I knew you'd fit in here," she said. She watched him hang his coat in the wardrobe. "Sorry, Eddie. He's a bit of a swine. I should've warned you."

"It would have been highly inappropriate if you had, Caroline. Absolve yourself of all guilt this instant." He closed the wardrobe doors. "I have the feeling public disputes between the princess royal and her husband are common."

"Ahh. Fairly, yes."

"Are they ever violent?"

"Not that I've seen. Not physically, anyway."

"Mm." Emotional violence left its mark, as surely and deeply as any physical abuse. Edward adjusted his cufflinks. "Rex seems to resent his lack of power in the household."

"He does."

"And Elena resents...?"

"Rex."

"In his entirety?"

Caroline tilted her head. "Are we gossiping?"

"Don't be absurd, Caroline." Edward flashed her a smile. "You're inducting me."

"I see." Caroline masked her smile, folding her arms across her chest. "Would it be unprofessional of me to induct you over a glass of something?"

Edward clicked his tongue, thinking. "I'm sure we could overlook it," he said, "just this once."

She grinned. "Won't be a minute," she said, and slipped out of his room, leaving him alone with the open door and his thoughts.

Supposing they were outside of work hours—and recalling that Caroline had seen him in far more dishevelled states—Edward removed his tie and loosened his top two buttons. He hung the tie in the wardrobe beside his coat, then approached the bedside to undo his cufflinks, vaguely catching his own reflection in the mirror. He'd ended up looking tired after his journey; yet he'd always felt that tiredness in a strange way suited him. It was the mark of an occupied mind. He had what his mother had fondly termed _a serious face—_ a forehead which suited a frown, pale blue eyes which inclined slightly cool, and a mouth which made his photographed smiles look forced. It was the face of an academic, not an entertainer.

The light of the nearby lamp had picked out the flecks of age at his temples.

Lowering his eyes, Edward slipped the other cufflink free. A glass of wine and a good night's sleep would do him a world of good.

As he opened the bedside drawer, he discovered a small white envelope waiting for him.

Curious, he picked it up. Turning it between his fingers revealed _'Whitby'_ in an unfamiliar hand—left-slanted, small letters rather widely spaced. A lighter pressure had left a few skips in the script.

In the absence of a letter-opener, he slit the envelope open with a fingertip.

A tiny brass key dropped into his hand, along with a folded note.

 

_Whitby,_

_For my rooms. I tend to lock the door._

_Come and go as you wish._

_L._

 

Edward smiled without humour. He suspected a psychologist might have something to say about a young man who gave others their full names, but truncated his own to the root.

 _"Meet my parents,"_ Edward recalled. _"You'll see."_

He restrained a sigh, slipping the key into his waistcoat pocket. _Of course the poor creature wants to marry for love._ This entire situation was becoming so forthrightly simple that it pained him to think how much earlier it could have been solved. If the father thought nothing of upbraiding his wife in front of staff and strangers, he'd think nothing of doing it in front of a child. The prospect of dynastic marriage would now loom over Leo like the headman's axe.

Making a mental note to acquire a chain for the key, Edward refolded the message and left it on his bedside beneath his cufflinks. There would be time to choose a place for everything in the morning.

For tonight, he needed to avail himself of facts.

As Caroline added a generous amount of Pinot Grigio to his glass, he gave her a small smile. "Rather like being undergraduates again, isn't it?"

She glanced sideways at him, amused. "Instead of Yeats and Shelley, Rex and Elena."

"I think you'd better start at the beginning."

"Mm, I think I had..." She sat back with her glass, toed off her shoes and curled her feet beneath her on the settee, shuffling to face him with one arm propped on the back. It seemed they would be here for a while. "They usually marry young," she began. "Elspeth was twenty when she married Angus, then twenty-one when she had Elena. They had four more daughters."

"Among them, Delphine's mother?"

"Yes. Even though Elena's the eldest, she was the last to start a family. By the time Leo came along, the queen already had eleven grandchildren. He's one of their youngest."

Edward took a sip of wine. "Why the delay?"

"Trouble sourcing the right husband." Caroline swirled her wine glass, the very picture of discretion. "From what I've heard there came a 'now or never' moment, and she just agreed to the most eligible name left on the list."

"Rex."

"Mm. Flower of the Unseelie Court. Elena was thirty-six when they married. Rex was twenty-three."

 _Quite the gap,_ Edward thought. He took a drink. _And younger than his son is now._

"Was the match at least initially successful?" he asked.

"Well, Leo came along fairly quickly..." Caroline reached up ruffle the back of her hair. "They've had separate bedrooms since I've been here, though. There was never any hint of further children."

"Rex's role in the proceedings concluded with the birth of an heir," Edward suggested, cleanly.

She took a drink, flashing her eyebrows at him. "Mm. Honestly it sounds as if they never really got along. Rex has hung around like a bad smell for the last twenty-four years... worse, he knows it."

"There's certainly a frustrated impotency about the man."

"Isn't there just?"

"I can see why it manifests as anger."

"For fairness's sake," she said, "I've never seen him lay a finger on someone. He's just a bit... _explosive_ at times."

"Mm." Edward settled back into the settee, sliding his feet free from his shoes. "Why was there trouble sourcing a husband for Elena, may I ask? She seems rather reasonable to my unqualified eye."

"Well... it's a bit hush-hush, to be honest. I only know what I've heard."

Edward drew his feet up beneath him. "Share what you've heard."

"You might think it's strange," she warned.

"Given where we're sitting, Caroline, you may assume that my normal standards of the strange have very comfortably relaxed in recent days."

"In that case..." She took a lengthy sip of wine, putting the words together. "It's... well, I suppose to you and me it would count as a superstition. They don't see it that way, though. It's a big deal to some of them."

"Go on."

"A lot of them are born with... birthmarks," she said. "You know, sort of... port wine stains?"

Edward's eyebrow quirked. "Similar to humans?"

"They're more common, I think—and they usually appear on the upper body, rather than on the head. They're very private about them," Caroline added, in warning. "Elspeth never had one. Those who do usually keep them covered."

"And this relates to Elena's marriage?"

"It relates to the delay." Caroline tapped her glass against his; he took a drink. "There's a belief in... well. _Soul mates,_ I suppose. Matching marks."

Edward found himself curiously moved. He'd heard stranger customs— and a shared belief in some kind of united destiny would certainly provide a great deal of security within the early days of a marriage, as well as good reason to weather storms together.

"How much of a match is required?" he asked.

"As much as possible, really. Shape and colour. Position, maybe. I get the feeling it's not necessarily exact. Some of them take it more seriously than others."

"The princess royal?"

 _"Very_ seriously. She has a mark, and it's not a secret."

"She hoped to find a match?"

"And it didn't work out that way." Caroline finished the last mouthful of her wine, reaching to the coffee table for the bottle. "I think it's at the root of all her problems with Rex, to be honest. He's not the right one. He never will be. If he's got a mark at all, it's not a match to hers—and that's that."

"Do many of them find a match?" Edward asked, intrigued.

"From what I can tell, yes. A lot of the other grandchildren are marrying now. We've had a couple of 'excellent matches', as they're usually announced. Some of them clearly think it's all a bit old hat and unnecessary, but..."

She leant over to top up his glass.

"Royal marriages have been founded on less," she shrugged. "Couples who match seem to be happy. How much of it is wilful thinking, I don't know... it's culturally reassuring for them, at least."

A suspicion had begun to stir in Edward's mind. As he swirled his glass, watching the wine shimmer in the low light, he said, "Do we know if the prince has a mark?"

Caroline drank, her eyes lowering. "If he does, I don't know details."

"Has any attempt been made to distribute those details to other families?"

"God, no. Etiquette reveals them upwards."

"If he's keen to avoid a marriage like his parents have, and he has a mark like his mother, it makes sense that he might be concerned... especially if his mother gives a lot of credence to the concept."

Caroline smiled against the edge of her wine glass. "You're going to find his soul mate for him, are you?"

"I'm going to respect his cultural background," Edward said, raising an eyebrow at her, "while supporting him in securing a suitable marriage, yes. One founded on mutual attraction and respect."

"That's quite a challenge to take up on day one."

Edward snorted. "If all it takes to break this deadlock between the prince and his grandmother," he said, "is an Excel spreadsheet of eligible young ladies' birthmarks, I'll gladly be the one to compile it."

"Do you actually believe in it?" Caroline asked him, tilting her head. She ran her thumb around the bottom of her glass. "Soul mates."

Edward gave her a fond frown.

"No," he said. "Not for a moment." He took a drink. "What matters is that the prince might believe in it. Frankly it's touching to see the things taken as something romantic, rather than a source of ridicule. If only the rest of the world were so enlightened."

Curiosity flashed across her features. "That sounds a little personal."

"I suppose it does."

"Have _you_ got a birthmark?"

"To the eternal delight of my boarding school dorm mates, yes."

Caroline grinned. "I never knew," she said, shuffling herself on the sofa. "Where is it? Or have we not had enough wine for me to hear this?"

Edward smirked at her. "I have missed you."

"God—it's on your arse, isn't it?"

"It's nowhere of the sort, before your imagination runs riot. It's on my arm."

She pulled a face at him. "That's not much to laugh at," she said. "Was your boarding school especially cruel?"

 _"All_ boarding schools are especially cruel." Edward threw back the last of his wine. Putting the glass aside, he said, "The mark forms a recognisable shape."

"So it's in the _shape_ of an arse?"

"Alas, rather more adorable than that." Supposing they should get this over with, Edward reached for his left cuff with a sigh. "You're about to understand my penchant for full sleeves. I forbid you to coo."

She watched, fascinated, as he rolled the white fabric back to his elbow.

The mark appeared on his forearm, nestled close to the crook. He'd disliked it as soon as he was old enough to understand that he should. Its deep raspberry colour only made its shape more instantly discernible—a clear, obvious heart. A tattoo artist couldn't have done better. Those few people who'd seen it over the course of his life usually asked whether it _was_ a tattoo, much to his annoyance. The thing had never failed to attract comments.

As Caroline laid eyes on it, she couldn't fight a smile.

"It's very sweet, I'll admit," she said. She watched him roll his sleeve back down. "I can see why you got a hard time at a posh boys' school. Kids are mean."

As he folded his cuff back into place, she gave him a nudge.

"Who knows?" she said. "You might be Elena's missing soul mate. You could brawling with Rex in the courtyard before the week is out."

Edward gave her a pained look.

"Rather partial to having my skull in one piece, as it happens..." He retrieved the bottle of wine from the table. "And as much as I sympathise for the princess royal's situation, frankly, Caroline, I wouldn't know what to do with her."

She laughed, throwing back her head.

With a smile, more fond of her than ever, Edward refilled her glass.

"Have you any plans for the weekend?" he asked, prompting a happy sigh.

"Not at all. I thought I'd keep it free, so I can help you find your feet... there's quite a bit to learn, if I'm honest."

"Mm, I'm discovering that."

"Start as we mean to go on?" she suggested. "Make the most of the weekend while it's quiet?"

Edward smiled, watching her drink. "Ready when you are, old friend."

 


	6. Day One

A robin had begun to sing somewhere out in the grounds. Its song trilled through the kitchen window as crisp and clean as a mountain stream, brimming with the irrepressible joy only birds in early spring could ever properly express.

Edward listening to it, smiling as he spread marmalade carefully across his toast. It was not his first smile of the day.

He'd only gotten lost twice on the way down from his room. He told himself they were useful detours to expand his knowledge of the house, as well as opportunities to smile and offer good morning to a number of other staff. He passed several maids carrying breakfast trays to bedrooms, who all beamed and bobbed to be greeted, as well as a cheerful Aberdonian housekeeper supervising the collection of laundry. She'd greeted him by name and hoped he'd been warm enough in the night. Despite his assurances to her that he'd been entirely comfortable, Mrs Ross had promised him a winter blanket for his bed that very night—and a spare for his wardrobe, just in case.

For a household so unusual, it seemed magnificently run.

As he carried his toast to the small wooden table, wondering if there might be room in his afternoon for a short walk, Edward heard the kitchen door creak. He glanced up over his glasses, preparing a smile.

The appearance of Rex took him by surprise.

He smiled all the same, noting with interest the mollified expression and guarded gaze.

Rex cleared his throat; he remained in the doorway to speak.

"Sorry to disturb you while you're eating. Mrs Ross said I'd find you here." His mouth pulled. "Not the best impression I might've made last night... came to offer my apologies, if you'll take them."

_How very interesting._

"Not needed in the least, your highness." Edward continued to smile, dividing his toast in half. "I'm sorry to have arrived into a heated moment."

Rex regarded him from the door, wary and grateful at once. "She... winds me up sometimes," he said. "Elena. Jams the buttons and holds them down." He lowered his gaze. "You shouldn't have had to see it."

"Think no more of it. I've forgotten already."

"Right... well, that's good of you." Rex filled the awkward pause with a breath. "You're working with Leo then, are you?"

Edward nodded. "Your son seems a very mature and responsible young man, sir. I look forward to assisting him."

Rex nodded, dimly.

"Good," he said. "Well... good. Glad he's got someone to sort him out at last." He tried a smile, rather tight. It reminded Edward irrepressibly of his son. "I'll leave you to your breakfast."

As the door closed behind him, Edward let his eyebrows lift.

He reached for his toast and ate it as he wondered.

 

*

 

"Did he mean it?"

"Apparently. It seemed sincere, at least."

Caroline hummed, gathering a pile of papers up from a nearby chair.

"Miracles never cease," she supposed, as she laid them to one side on her desk. "Good of him to come find you."

"Mm. It was." Edward slid his reading glasses from his nose, polishing them with the hem of his jumper. "I only hope his wife received a similar apology."

"Heh. She'd be lucky." Caroline wheeled the second chair across to the desk. "Right," she said, sitting down with a squeak. "Standard admin out of the way first, maybe? I'm sure it's nothing new to you, but we might as well check every box."

"Yes, I think that's best. I'd like to see how you do things. Coffee at eleven?"

"Ooh. Now there's a plan."

 

*

 

"Caroline?"

"Mm?"

"'Chester Square'?"

"Oh—the London property. A lot of the wealthier families move there for the season... just like humans."

"Ah, yes... I recall..." Edward transferred the address to his notebook with care, suspecting the property was quite a sight to behold. _Quite a cost to maintain, too._ "I'm told the prince isn't enamored of this tradition."

"No, not really."

"April?"

"Around that time, yep." Caroline gave him a smile. "I imagine he'll be glad to have some support this year."

"Mm. Or resentful of his babysitter... we shall see."

 

*

 

"Caroline?"

"Mm?"

"Is this figure here correct?"

Caroline leant across, peering at the spreadsheet open on Edward's laptop. "Yep," she said. "That's the one."

"And that is his _monthly_ allowance?"

"He's a prince, Eddie. Certain lifestyle."

Edward scrolled through the spreadsheet, bewildered. "But he's hardly using it. Most of it seems to be returned to the central account every month. Aside from the odd veterinary bill, it's all put straight back."

"Well... he's _meant_ to lead a certain lifestyle, any way."

Edward restrained a sigh. At least the boy wasn't overspending. Teaching a young man to spend money would surely be easier than teaching him to save it.

"Where does the family source its wealth?" he asked, duplicating the spreadsheet and titling it _TEMPLATE._ "I can't imagine these figures are purely inherited."

"There's a financial adviser in New York keeping everything afloat," Caroline said. She reached for her address book. "The investments have always been lucky."

The corner of Edward's mouth twitched. "Of course they have."

 

*

 

"Caroline, forgive my interminable questions."

"There's nothing to forgive," she said with a smile, shuffling her chair across to his. "What've you found?"

"A floorplan of the house. Is it up to date?"

She glanced over the screen, checking each room. "Up here," she said, shifting the mouse and clicking, "we've now got Delphine in that bedroom. Otherwise it looks okay."

Edward frowned, intrigued. "I didn't realise so many of the rooms are unoccupied."

"Grown-up children," she said. "We're in that empty nest stage... I think poor Leo's been put in charge of filling them all."

"Where are the sisters?"

"Mm?"

"His mother's sisters," Edward said, his frown deepening. "You said there were four. Surely these rooms would be..."

"Chose to live elsewhere when they married. Melody's in Richmond, Lucille down in Buckinghamshire, Darcy in Oxford, then Alice is currently off travelling with her husband... that's why we have Delphine."

Edward processed this, his forehead still furrowed. For all the family's insistence upon their closeness, four of five children had chosen to leave. Daughters, too; they might have been expected to stay nearer to their mother. He was beginning to sense a pattern.

For royal children, marriage was an escape route—or a life sentence.

He didn't blame the prince for wanting to delay which his would be.

 

*

 

"If they're to take up room in anyone's office, Caroline, they might as well take up room in mine."

"They could probably go to the attic, if I'm honest." Caroline heaved the last box from on top of the cupboard, carefully handing it down to him. "Old school books, mostly. Nothing you'll need."

As she dusted the empty space they'd left, Edward made a quiet check of each box. She was quite right; notebooks and projects, printed reports, all organised carefully by year. He lifted out each object briefly, adding them to a mental inventory.

Leo had used the surname 'Cridhe' at school.

His tutor's reports raised Edward's eyebrows to his hairline.

By the time he reached the final box, he was entirely unsurprised by what he found. "Head Boy," he noted, turning the silver badge between his fingertips. It glinted in the sunlight filtering through Caroline's window.

"Mm? Oh, god yes. All his prizes should be in there, too."

"Prizes?"

"Art, mostly. History. He really did very well."

Edward withdrew a smart navy folder from the box, opening it to find a headteacher's final report and a thick sheaf of A Level certificates.

He thumbed through them, wondering why his heart had fallen quiet.

"Did he attend university?" he asked, glancing up as Caroline got down from her chair.

She smoothed her dress, shooting him a wry expression. _"'No place for a prince',"_ she said.

Edward wondered whose voice she'd just channeled. He dropped his eyes back to the final report, telling himself it was possibly for the best if their identity remained unknown to him.

"A shame," he remarked, simply, and closed the report. He returned it with care to the box. "Photograph frames?"

Caroline nodded. "I did ask if he wanted them in his room, but..."

Edward lifted the collection of frames free, holding them in one arm as he quietly shifted through them. The seventeen-year-old Leo seemed almost distressingly young, bright-eyed and beaming beside a series of proud and well-dressed adults. Each photograph was carefully labelled, Leo's handwriting in silver pen on a hand-cut black card insert. _Mr Douglas, Art. Ms Hall, Literature._

As he reached the last photograph, _Mr Shaw, German,_ Edward's heart silently caved.

"Caroline..."

She turned round from her desk. "Yes?"

"There are none with... other pupils. Friends."

Caroline said nothing.

Numb, Edward returned the frames to the box.

"He's always been very mature," she offered, as if to bring him solace. "He... seems to prefer..."

"Being alone?" Edward pressed the lid back into place. "'Prefer' suggests an element of choice."

Caroline pulled at her lower lip. "I was going to say 'the company of adults'."

Edward took a moment to respond, tempering his first thought into something a little less serrated. "Calm adults, perhaps. Those who pay attention to his actual abilities and achievements."

He straightened up, brushing down his knees in the uneasy quiet.

"Do you want another coffee?" Caroline asked.

Edward shunted the box beside the door with the others, ready to be carried to his office when he had the strength. "Yes," he said. "I think I'd better."

 

*

 

By the evening, Caroline had taken him through most of the day-to-day affairs of the house. Little of it surprised Edward; small variations on those tasks he'd done for the countess for the past fourteen years. Caroline's organisational methods were instinctive and made sense to him. Many of her systems, he could simply adopt unaltered. It meant they could more seamlessly share calendars and contact lists, keep track of household expenditure, compile staff rotas and attend to any matters which concerned both Elspeth and her grandson.

For those systems he'd need to put into place, individual to Leo's needs, they were already taking shape in his mind. Caroline had done an admirable job of sustaining the household; she'd laid excellent foundations on which to build.

"Lesson two tomorrow," she said, smiling as she shut down her laptop, "We'll go over more of the social things... have a decent breakfast. You'll need your strength."

Edward picked up the stack of folders she'd bequeathed to him, amused. "I shall. Thank you for the warning."

"Are you winding down for the day now?"

"I might spend a few minutes in my office first, find a home for these... I rather want to hit the ground running." He smiled, raising an eyebrow at her. "As you can see, I still begin writing my essays on the day they're assigned."

She grinned. "Some things never change."

"Mm. Thank heavens for the things that do." Edward eased the strap of his laptop case over his head as he spoke, settling it flat against his chest. He rebalanced the folders against his torso. "I'll see you at dinner, shall I?"

"Yep. Just come down to the kitchen at about eight." As he opened the door, she added, "My turn tonight. I hope you like coq au vin."

The house seemed quiet as he made his way to the main staircase, then down a floor to the prince's rooms. It was a comfortable quiet; the family, Edward assumed, were all out.

Wondering what sort of activities might be occupying them, he supposed they would be quite the same as any other upper class family: visits, errands, relaxation. He imagined some of them seized any chance they could to escape.

On Leo's corridor, it took him a moment to trace his footsteps to the right door. The click of his key in the lock confirmed his success. Negotiating his folders with one arm, he carefully twisted the handle and backed his way into the room.

As he appeared, a pair of dark eyes glanced around from the window seat.

Leo was wrapped in a fleece blanket, sideways to the glass with mismatched cushions all around him, the pads of his bare feet just visible beneath the fleece. Against his chest, tucked warm within the folds of his blanket, an immensely fluffy cat was purring her utmost. Her deep rumble reached the door with ease; contentment seemed to glow from her in waves.

What precisely had shown in Edward's expression, he would never know. As his senses returned it was wiped from his face, beyond his knowledge forever.

Whatever it was, it had made Leo smile.

"Good evening," the prince murmured, watching him.

Edward ignored the quiet thud of his heart in response. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"If you were," Leo said, "it would be my fault for supplying you with a key." He looked down, watching as the cat in his arms gave a cosy stretch. Her paws paddled in the loose folds of the blanket. "She's pregnant. The vet says another four weeks or so... early March."

Edward smiled, unable to help himself. "My hearty congratulations."

"Mhm. She's very happy." Leo stroked his thumb between the cat's eyes; she began to lick his wrist, tiny flashes of her small pink tongue. "Always happy when there's kittens."

"Is the father known?" Edward asked, resting his folders for now upon the empty couch.

Leo cast him an amused glance, his black eyes bright.

"It's 2018, Whitby," he said. "These are liberal times. I'll have no moralising on the virtue of my cat."

Edward kept his expression clean as he approached, leant down and offered his fingertips to the expectant mother. She sniffed them hopefully.

"Perish the thought," he said, slipping them beneath her soft white chin. She was a spectacular creature, he had to admit—the sort of cat whose ancestors had probably pestered Vikings for titbits, stupendously fluffy with the delicate little face of an angel. "'As a fish needs a bicycle', I'm given to understand... isn't that right, your highness? To the waste bin of history with such archaic nonsense."

Leo watched him tickle her, frowning faintly. "I thought we nixed 'your highness'."

"Happily, I wasn't addressing you." Edward crooked his fingers, rubbing in slow and lazy circles. The cat's eyes closed as her purring thickened. "Some of us still adhere to propriety, ma'am, don't we?"

He glanced coolly at the prince—and found himself the recipient of a growing smile.

For one short moment, the sight of those eyes—as dark as pitch, soft with a spark, waiting so readily for his own—invited into his mind the quiet wish to see them shut; to slip his fingers beneath another chin and stroke.

He smoothed his thumb over the cat's ear, tempering his smile, and withdrew.

"Have you had a productive day one?" Leo asked, as he retrieved his folders from the couch.

"Caroline has very kindly shared her systems with me," he replied, carrying them through to the office. "All of it seems quite familiar. I can't foresee any major difficulties."

"Good." Leo watched through the open door as he placed the folders on his desk. "Is there anything you need? Any way I can help?"

In fourteen years with the countess, the idea that _she_ could be of some assistance to _Edward_ had never once crossed her mind. From his first day, his sole purpose in life had been to make hers easier.

It was rather touching to be asked.

"Not at this juncture," he said, with a grateful glance. "I had a few questions to ask at a later stage, but they can wait."

Leo gave him a faint smile. "They don't have to. I'm not particularly busy."

"Are you certain?"

In response, Leo gestured to his recumbent position and the cat for whom he served as cushion.

 _Very well._ Edward returned to the sitting room, drew a chair to a respectful closeness and sat down. From his top pocket he took the small notepad in which he'd written all day, unhooked his pen and started it with a click.

"Do you prefer to deal with your own correspondence?" he asked. "Or would you like me to process it for you?"

Leo thought about it, running his fingers through the cat's fur. "Filter it, you mean?"

"I would pass on anything of a personal nature, prioritise the rest and make any necessary enquiries, then present you with only those matters requiring your direct attention."

"I suppose that sounds useful."

"If you're ever approached in person about something you'd rather not deal with," Edward said, jotting, "you're very welcome to direct it to me."

A smile flickered across Leo's mouth. "'Talk to my secretary'?"

"Quite."

There came a curious pause.

Edward looked up, his pen falling still. "Sincerely," he said. He let Leo read his face, offering assurance in his eyes. "A large part of a private secretary's role is to act as gatekeeper—to prevent tedious people from wasting your time. It's what I did for my last employer, and it's what Caroline does for your grandmother. You're very welcome to take advantage of that."

Leo huffed. "I'm not certain I get enough time-wasters to justify that."

Edward took a moment to phrase this, trying not to smile. "Another large part of a private secretary's role is to give _the impression_ that your time is not to be wasted."

The prince raised an eyebrow. "It's a show of power?"

"Indeed."

"So... when people _actually_ get through to me..."

"They feel terribly special. It also allows you to signal to someone that it's his highness's pleasure to keep them at the gates. One of life's keenest joys, I hear."

Leo's mouth quirked. "I'll produce you a list," he said.

 _"Do,"_ Edward said, unable to suppress his smile a moment longer. "It's why I'm here, Leo. Power is a game of presentation. It's a light show, nothing more. An impressive bloodline will brighten the bulbs at your disposal... how you utilise them matters far more."

For a few moments the prince didn't respond, watching him as if on the brink of wonder. His eyes performed their familiar search of Edward's face, looking for deceit.

Edward held them, calm, allowing them to see.

After a moment, the prince gave a soft snort.

"I'd like to see you try that line on my grandmother," he said. "I really would."

"Couched in less transparent terms," Edward replied, unfazed, "I'm certain she'd agree with me. Your grandmother probably conceptualises it as a sort of stoicism... conducting oneself with propriety at all times. Maintaining an unflinching awareness of one's position. It is all the same endeavour, though. If you master the illusion, you can live in peace behind it."

He opened his notebook again.

"And I will assist you with the larger part of that," he said, making a brief note. He flipped to the next page. "At what times of day would you prefer I leave you undisturbed?"

Leo took a moment to respond. "My alarm usually goes at seven."

"I imagine you'll want some time to begin your day in privacy."

"I usually write until breakfast... about half past seven? Then a shower." Leo carefully drew the blanket higher around the cat now fast asleep upon his chest. "After that, I... I don't have any particular..."

Edward made a quiet note.

"'Write'?" he checked, taking care to temper the interest in his voice.

Leo shifted. "Journalling. Nothing of interest."

The corner of Edward's mouth lifted.

"I've had mine since I was around your age," he said. "A very healthy habit. The sign of an organised mind." He continued to write. _"'I tell myself to myself, and throw the burden on my book and feel relieved.'"_

"Anne Lister," came the murmur.

Edward's pen skipped; he looked up, startled. He took a moment to arrange his face into something which felt more propitious. "You're familiar with Anne Lister?"

Leo lowered his gaze. He resumed stroking his cat's head; the casualness of the gesture was almost painful to behold. "I wouldn't say 'familiar'."

Edward returned his attention to his notebook, scanning it for questions to distract his beating heart. "I'll not disturb you without an excellent reason before eight o'clock, shall we say?"

Leo nodded, unspeaking.

Edward noted it down. "Is there a time in the evening after which you'd like to be left alone?"

"Ten o'clock, perhaps? Is that alright?"

"It can be earlier, if you wish."

"No, it's... fine." Leo glanced down at his cat, quietly adjusting the blanket as she stirred. "I'll go to my bedroom if I'm tired. Don't disturb me when I'm there."

Edward nodded, glad of the boundary. From what he could tell, the prince had been allowed to maintain very few of them in his short life. He would do his utmost to sustain them, in the hope it might encourage some more.

"Of course," he said, making a note. "Would you like me to keep my intrusion to a minimum at weekends?"

Leo cast him a small smile. "You really _do_ struggle to switch off, don't you?"

Edward glanced up from his notes. The prince surveyed him, apparently enjoying the sight of him unsettled.

"You need rest days," Leo said. "You need time for your own concerns. Don't work at the weekend. There's no need."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect... enforced absence from my duties will cause me more stress than relaxation. I prefer to know I have everything in hand."

Leo gave a small huff.

"So you intend to work from eight AM until ten PM," he said, "seven days a week, without fail?" His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "No, Whitby. You're not allowed to do that. For one day a week, my concerns can wait."

Edward listened, torn between the need to obey direct instructions and the need to earn his keep here. A full day a week seemed excessive. How he would occupy that time without working, he didn't know.

He watched in silence as his employer smiled, correctly reading the look on his face.

"I know," the prince said, amused, "but I've pronounced it now. It's law. I don't care which day. Change it from week to week, if you like... but on that day, you're not allowed to assist me with a thing."

Edward tried not to smile; he didn't wish to suggest this matter was amusing. "Leo—"

 _"Whitby,"_ the prince said, veering beautifully close to a grin. "I don't expect to be defied on day one."

For a second or two, all Edward could do was marvel. He was briefly nothing more than his heart, beating, his eyes gazing, looking at the young man before him in utter certainty that his life had altered in its entirety the very moment they'd met.

It was more than a desire to serve well, he realised. This wasn't a case of professional pride. He didn't merely wish to help.

He wanted to be indispensable.

The force of it, the ache, almost hurt. _I wish to be the safe ground on which you walk. The walls around you._ He didn't know why. Some strange sense of injustice, perhaps—to see a young man this vital, this intelligent, left so isolated and so wary—such a situation would never sit well with him. _I wish to watch you thrive. To know it was my doing. That you will never forget._

That unguarded smile—perhaps the first—gave him greater rest and reward than any number of weekly days off ever could.

As he realised he was staring, Edward drew his thoughts to a close. He took a breath, contenting himself with his first and foremost duty: to obey.

"As you wish," he said, inclining his head.

When he lifted his gaze, the smile had softened but the brightness in the prince's eyes remained.

"Did your last employer have to order you to rest?" Leo asked.

Edward let the realisation wash through him, calm and quiet and cold. He'd worked tirelessly and loyally; he'd been cast aside. _Not again,_ he thought. _Not by you. I couldn't bear it._

"I... believe my zealous aversion to my own cause was rather an advantage," he said, simply.

He watched the prince feel sadness for him; he watched it filter through Leo's eyes.

A smile came in its wake—small, but there. "You'll learn, Whitby."

 


	7. Beyond the Ordinary

Edward would look back on it as the fastest February of his life. One day blew into the next without a breath, stringing themselves seamlessly together—and before he knew it, he'd been a resident of Cridhe for nearly ten days.

It seemed strange to recall that he'd ever been anywhere else.

His office looked as if he'd occupied it for years now, everything in its place and perfectly appointed. A small philodendron appeared in a pot on his desk one morning; its glossy green leaves made an attractive sight beside his notebooks. He added an armchair for visitors to sit in, and found it occupied most afternoons by a sleepy cat, napping contentedly in the sunshine as he typed. Maggie was a very pleasant addition to the ambience; she lent a certain calm. He found himself smiling each time he glanced at her, and often smiling for some time after.

In the evenings, the chair usually hosted her master instead. Leo came to talk for a short while most nights. Edward wasn't surprised to find him capable of holding excellent conversation—a thoughtful mind, never over-hasty to voice an opinion. The prince had the sort of quiet patience and depth of thinking that would have served him well at Cambridge. He talked about renaissance artists the way other people shyly discussed new relationships; it was rather affecting.

Edward waited until the second week of his employment to broach the subject, not wishing to overstep his bounds.

"Caroline tells me you were academically gifted... art and history, wasn't it?"

He watched the smile fade a little on Leo's face. "I enjoyed them," the prince said. He read Edward's eyes, ever wary, and took a sip of tea. "Why do you ask?"

Turning discreetly to the back of his notebook, Edward retrieved the computer print-out he'd folded safely into quarters.

He handed it across the desk, held out between his fingertips.

"The University of Oxford offer a variety of short courses in the History of Art," he said, "conducted privately online as part of their department for continuing education. All seem excellently taught and would take around ten hours of study per week. I thought it might interest you."

Leo unfolded the print-out in silence, gazing down at it.

Edward kept his smile discreet, his tone mild. "If any catch your interest, let me know. I'd be happy to handle the details."

Leo took some time to respond.

"Thank you," he said at last, a little overwhelmed. "I... might go and read this."

"Of course," Edward said. He'd expected some thought would be required. "Take your time."

Leo stood from the chair, still lost in the descriptions of courses, and slipped into the lounge without a word.

Two hours later, the anticipated knock came.

"Come in," Edward called, glancing up from his papers.

The door opened. Leo appeared within the frame, his expression grey. He'd changed into his far more casual evening attire: an overlong navy jumper with his shirt collar crumpled around the neck, grey silk pyjama bottoms which exposed the very tips of his toes. His hair had been brushed onto end. Edward suspected he'd been pushing his hands through it.

"Those courses," Leo said, lightly, as if he cared no more than a crumb or two. "They have a fee."

Edward reached for a nearby stack of envelopes. "They do," he said. "And you have a largely unused monthly allowance."

"A _monitored_ allowance. Everything I buy is... checked." Leo paused, watching him closely. "Remarked upon by a higher power. I wouldn't be able to take part in this kind of—it... it couldn't be justified."

It still saddened Edward, even after a fortnight growing increasingly aware of it. The prince had theoretical access to a monthly allowance beyond most people's dreams; spending it freely was another matter.

Holding Leo's gaze, he said,

"As I'm now keeping track of your expenses, their accuracy will be my responsibility. If some administrative cost ends up being recorded as slightly higher than it was, but the account balances overall, there would be no reason whatsoever for anyone to ask questions."

Leo didn't respond for some time.

"That would be deceptive," he said at last.

Edward waited, calm.

Leo's jaw worked.

"Art Nouveau Across Europe," he said, and closed the door as he left.

With three clicks, Edward printed the application form.

 

*

 

For much of Edward's time, he assisted Caroline with the running of the household. A sizeable estate led to a great many jobs to be completed. As the days passed, and he proved himself more and more capable of siphoning administrative tasks off Caroline's considerable list, his authority in the house slowly expanded. He started overseeing weekly rotas for the casual staff; he took on the record-keeping for annual leave. In his third week of employment, he spent several days shadowing other staff to learn the general shape of their responsibilities, then took it upon himself to streamline a few processes.

It came with pitfalls.

As one of the kitchen girls came careering into his office, nearly taking the door from its hinges, Edward glanced up from his laptop in alarm.

"Mr Whitby, sir!" she gasped. Her cheeks blazed pink; her hat had knocked itself askew atop her head. She'd run here from the kitchens, and left her breath down there behind her. "Mrs Ross says you're to come at once, sir. There's been a terrible mistake."

Concerned, Edward closed his laptop. "What manner of mistake?"

"We don't even know, sir. Mrs Ross sent me to come get you. We haven't a clue what to do with them all."

_Them all?_

Bracing himself for the worst, Edward removed his glasses and slipped them over the top button of his waistcoat. "Show me, Hannah."

The problem became apparent as soon as they entered the kitchen—and Edward found himself facing what could only be described as a small hillock of bagged carrots. They'd been piled up where the table should be, taking up very nearly the same space.

A distraught Mrs Ross, standing beside the mound, flapped a printed groceries order at it in bewilderment.

"What on earth...?" Edward began.

"It's your fancy online shopping," she told him, flatly. "That's what. And now we've more carrots than sense. This is what we get for putting computers in charge of everything. I should've guessed this would happen."

Edward took a moment to fortify his sanity, trying his very hardest not to smile.

"Let me see," he said, reaching a hand for the printed order. She gave it to him and watched as he retrieved his glasses from his waistcoat, putting them back on. "I'm sure there's been some harmless error."

"Aye—trusting computers. _That's_ the error. All this posh technology, and look what happens."

Scanning the listed items, Edward spotted the problem almost immediately. He tilted the paper to show her.

"Here," he said, gesturing with his thumb. "'Carrots'... you ordered—"

"About fifty."

"And indeed we have fifty. Fifty _kilogram bags._ See? Here, beside the item name."

Mrs Ross sighed, shaking her head. "Bloody computers," she said.

Reminding himself that the woman now kept his rooms clean, his clothes washed and his stomach full, Edward decided this particular battle could be surrendered before it began.

"I'll contact the supermarket," he said, with a smile, folding the printed list in half, "and explain the problem. I'm certain they can send someone to collect the surplus. And I'll sit with you to submit the next order, shall I? I should not have tossed you into the deep end of online groceries, Mrs Ross. I take full responsibility."

Before she could respond, a knock upon the door frame turned their heads.

Leo bit his lip, his eyes bright as they moved from the heap of carrots to his secretary. He'd evidently just returned, still in his coat with his wallet in one hand. The cat carrier at his side emitted a displeased meow.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said. "Are you dealing with something?"

As the other servants dipped their heads and murmured, Edward concentrated on trying not to smile.

"The internet and I have conspired to make Mrs Ross look foolish, your highness," he said. "I'll ensure this is taken care of." The cat carrier meowed again, loudly. "Everything went well, I trust?"

"Mm, all fine." Leo held his gaze, amused. The glitter in his eye was rather magical. "Can I steal him back, Mrs Ross? If you're finished with him, of course."

"Aye, your highness, I've finished with him. So long as he sorts out these flaming carrots."

Smiling, Leo beckoned with his chin for Edward to follow. "I'll make sure it's his first priority."

They ascended the stairs side-by-side, the sunshine warm on the back of their necks as it filtered through the skylight above.

"Can they tell how many in advance?" Edward asked.

Leo smiled, glancing fondly at the cat carrier.

"The vet thinks five," he said. "Same as last time." Maggie chirped from inside the carrier. "She'll be looking for a place to have them soon... I'll set out a box behind the couch for her. She's always been happy there."

"Another week or so, is it?"

"Something like that. It's hard to be certain, not knowing when she, ah..."

"—'was rendered with child'."

"Mm, that. The vet says she's doing well, though." They stepped off the stairs, heading along the corridor as Maggie wiggled in her carrier. It jostled gently in Leo's hand. "I've got them on standby in case there are any problems, but she knows the routine by now."

"I'm sure she'll do excellently," Edward said. He retrieved the key from inside his waistcoat. "Am I correct that she'll handle most of the birth by herself?"

"Mm. It's rare they need much intervention, especially an experienced mother."

As the door swung inwards Maggie trilled, sensing her imminent release. The carrier wiggled hopefully in Leo's hand. He carried her over to the rug by the fire, knelt down and attended to the clasp with care, crooning.

"Nearly, Mags," he said, softly. "Let me just undo this..."

She emerged with a harrumph and an expressive unfurling of her tail, pleased to be returned to her comfortable surroundings. Each day, Edward felt sure she couldn't possibly grow anymore rounded. Somehow she managed.

 _"Frrrrrp?"_ she inquired, peering up at Leo.

Edward stepped forward, presenting her with the freshly-filled biscuit bowl he'd been preparing.

"Here you are, your highness," he said. "Refreshment, after your busy morning." She began to eat before he'd even set the bowl down, scarfing the small pellets with eager snorts. "The maternal appetite still rages, I see..."

"She's eating for six, Whitby. Be nice. Have you had a productive morning?"

"Mm, highly. I've taken the staff wages out of Caroline's hands, and I'm most of the way through upcoming payments for February. All very straightforward so far."

"Paying everyone in carrots, are you?"

Edward swallowed his smile, moving the tip of his tongue across his canines. "Alas," he said, "that Mrs Ross's ability to read an item description falls outside the bounds of my responsibility."

Leo smirked, watching Maggie eat. "We're putting it down to 'user error', then."

"In the kindest possible way," Edward said. He reached for Maggie's cat carrier, lifting it carefully and relocking the door. "Your afternoon will be spent preparing a box ahead of the royal birth, will it?"

"Oh, it won't take the whole afternoon. Ten minutes, to be honest... blankets and a few pillows. I have it all stored from last time."

"In that case, while you're unbusy, may I beg your signature on a few documents?"

"Sure," Leo said. "Seeing as it's you."

 

*

 

Returning to his office one day after lunch, Edward spotted the well-loved copy of _The Lost World_ left neatly atop his papers.

"Ah," he said with a smile, and picked it up. "You finished it. Thoughts?"

Leo called through from the lounge, in a voice of regret. "You won't like them."

Amused, Edward carried the book to the door.

"Appall me," he said.

Leo—laid along the couch with Maggie laid atop him, and a blanket laid atop them both—bit down into his lip. "Not as good as Sherlock Holmes."

"Tssh. Conan Doyle is spinning in his grave, young man."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'm a hopeless popularist. It's just so... _Victorian._ Dashing explorers and warring tribes and oh the fickleness of women. I was cringing every other page. I couldn't see past it."

Edward tutted softly.

"Wasted on you," he remarked, thumbing through his book. "I don't know why I attempt to improve you with literature."

"What am I reading next?"

"I'll have to find you something easier to appreciate. Something with pictures to colour in, perhaps."

Leo bit back a grin, turning his attention to Maggie's hopeful nuzzles beneath his chin. "Maybe you should read something of mine," he said, tickling her head. She lifted a paw to catch his fingers. "Something a bit more relevant to the modern world."

"Are you suggesting my taste in books is outdated?"

"I mean... do you actually _own_ anything written after the millennium?"

"I'm sure I have something somewhere."

"The _second_ millennium, Whitby."

Edward fought his smile; it didn't quite work, and he knew it. Leo's grin only brightened. "Very well," he said. "Educate me. Leave it on my desk and we'll see what I've been missing out on all these years. Nothing with wizards or vampires, thank you."

 

*

 

He found it on his bed that night; _They Both Die at the End,_ by Adam Silvera.

Smiling faintly, Edward tipped it over to read its description. The premise seemed rather mawkish; any eventual emotional impact would surely be lessened by the inevitability.

He poured himself a glass of wine nonetheless, took to the couch in his room, and with little expectation of subtlety opened the first page.

 

*

 

"You read it," Leo said, delighted, standing in the door of Edward's office next morning.

Edward immediately regretted not taking a few more minutes to bathe his face in cold water. He thought he'd relieved most of the redness.

"What did you think?" Leo asked him, now grinning.

Edward continued to write, casting the prince a displeased glance over his reading glasses.

"I have not slept," he said. "Today I have to review potential contracts with new laundry providers. I can barely function." He frowned. "Thank you."

Leo chuckled, a soft and almost impish sound that Edward had never heard before.

"Are you going to punish me with some miserable Victorian dirge?" he said. "Complete works of Tennyson, maybe. _The Old Curiosity Shop._ Something grim where they all suffer bravely with their typhoid then die like filthy sinners anyway."

"No," Edward said, writing. "I have far worse in mind."

"I'm intrigued."

"I've purchased a copy for you, as I'm not willing to have mine spoiled with tears. It should be here by the weekend."

Leo smiled, tilting his head. "You've bought me a present?"

"I've bought you reparation, young man." Edward sat back in his chair, reaching for his second black coffee of the day. "Now kindly come here and sign these forms."

 

*

 

"What is it this week?"

Leo looked up from his laptop.

"Josef Hoffman," he said, as Edward leant down to study his screen, faintly amused by the array of rather brutal looking black chairs. "Wiener Werkstätte... we've been set our first essay, too."

"Mm? On what are you writing?"

"I thought maybe René Lalique." Leo entered the name into a search engine, switched to images and showed Edward—glittering glass perfume bottles and brooches, styled like the most delicate winged insects and enamelled with soft teals and golds, their wings shimmering with mother-of-pearl. "Use of natural elements, perhaps. Something like that."

Edward found himself smiling, unsure why this gentle love of beauty made him feel so fond.

"I'd like to read it when you've finished," he said. "If you don't mind, of course. I know very little about art. It would be instructive for me."

A soft tinge of colour warmed Leo's cheeks. "I hoped you'd proof-read, actually," he said. "I want it to go well."

"Mm? I'd be glad to."

As he opened the door of his office, Leo's voice turned his head. "Whitby?"

Edward looked across the room. "Yes?"

Leo watched him for a moment; he seemed to draw a breath.

"Thank you," he said. "For... i-it means a great deal. What you've done for me."

Edward's heart gave a careful squeeze. He took a second to gather together a response that felt neither too little nor too much, merely honest.

He'd belonged to Leo for almost a month now.

It still seemed like a miracle to have met the prince at all.

"Your wellfare will always be my first thought," he said. "I'm only glad I can be helpful to you."

He watched the colour rise in Leo's cheeks. "I'm glad you're here to help."

 

*

 

He left the book in return on Leo's pillow.

He'd hesitated over the selection. He'd hesitated, too, writing a short note on the inside. He now hesitated laying it down, and his gaze lingered on the cover as he tried to think.

In some minds, he was sure, it might seem an inappropriate choice.

His professional relationship with Leo contained perhaps more friendliness than a secretary and an employer would usually share. He didn't believe he was a parent figure, nor quite considered a friend—but there was some element of closeness beyond the ordinary.  

Then, the prince was no ordinary employer. He had not lived an ordinary life.

In the last month, alone together in these rooms, he seemed to have quietly and gently bloomed. Edward now heard the prince laugh with regularity. Leo was quite simply a charming, thoughtful and intelligent young man; it was impossible not to feel fond of him, to feel concern for his welfare.

Transferring this new happiness into confidence in the outside world might yet pose a challenge. But there was a foundation laid now—a bond—a settling trust between the two of them.

There was a degree of care inherent in their connection, and while unusual, Edward knew in his heart it wasn't anything untoward. He wished the best for Leo. Certain things had never been given to him; it wasn't too late for someone to provide them.

Inhaling in silence, Edward left the book and stepped out of Leo's room. He closed the door without a sound.

 

*

 

He found Leo crying in silence in his window alcove that evening, bundled up beneath his blanket. The sun was setting in streams of deep orange and gold through the window behind him; he had the book held open around his thumb, his dark eyes shining as they flew from line-to-line.

It was a sight Edward wouldn't forget.

He approached, gently, and laid a hand on Leo's shoulder as he passed.

"Read to the end," he murmured, intending to step into his office.

Leo looked up from E M Forster's _Maurice,_ a flash of dark and tear-bright eyes.

"I've read to the end," he said. "I'm rereading." He didn't move as Edward adjusted the blanket gently around his shoulders. "I don't know why it hurts that they're happy. Somehow it hurts more than if they'd lost each other."

One possible explanation occurred to Edward at once—an explanation so distressing he couldn't permit it to stay in his head.

He brushed it aside, found Leo a smile, and said,

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset..." The prince gazed back at the book, inhaling slowly. His thumb stroked the edge of the page. "I'm happy for them."

Edward wished he could remove his hand from Leo's shoulder. He had a growing sensation that he should, that to keep it there was somehow wrong—exploitative—but this moment felt so peaceful, the two of them, the sun sinking slowly in the sky, and the warmth of Leo's blanket against his palm made his every thought go quiet. He didn't have the strength to bring it to an end.

The prince reached up; he laid his hand on top of Edward's.

He gripped, gently, as he read.

"Will you order me the DVD, please?" he said. His fingers slipped away, letting Edward go. "Hide it in the figures somewhere. I don't want them to know."

Edward's throat tightened. He, too, didn't wish them to know.  

He watched as Leo glanced up from his book, noticing at last the sunset and the room darkening around them. The prince shifted a little, reaching up towards a small shelf nearby. A cluster of pillar candles sat there.

"Shall I bring matches?" Edward offered.

Leo looked into his eyes. With the slightest lift of one eyebrow, he ran his bare fingertips across their wicks.

They took flame one by one, firelight stroked into being with a touch.

Every hair lifted on the back of Edward's neck. He repressed the sensation, keenly aware of Leo's eyes still held in his own—an almost defiant look, that guarded softness Leo wore so well.

"You forget sometimes," Leo said, quietly. "Don't you?"

Edward found himself unsure how to respond. He wet his lips, reassembling his thoughts. "I'm sorry, if you'd rather I keep it in mind."

Leo searched his face.

"Why would I want that?" he said. He paused, watching Edward by the light of the candles. "I think they regret sending me to a human school. They'd thought about a private tutor at one point, but... usually, there'd be siblings to—a-and they worried I wouldn't learn how to socialise. Now I think they worry that I came back human."

Edward said nothing, listening, letting him speak.

"Do you think I seem human?" Leo asked.

Edward took a breath before he answered, not wishing to cause offence either way. "Would it distress you, if I did?"

"I don't know." Leo lowered his eyes. "No. I suppose it would distress me more, if... if you thought we were very different."

Settling on his knees beside the window seat, Edward waited until he had the prince's eyes again to speak.

"I don't believe we're very different," he said, resting a hand on the edge of Leo's blanket. "I see a great deal of myself in you. Perhaps it's why I feel so committed to your welfare... and perhaps it's why the reminder that we have some degree of biological difference surprised me."

Leo processed this, the novel now closed around his thumb.

"Were you isolated, too?" he asked.

Not quite trusting himself to speak, Edward gave a simple nod.

Leo's gaze softened. "Pressured?"

"I... experienced certain unavoidable constraints. I don't resent them for a moment, nor do I regret my choices. Overall I consider myself a very fortunate and content individual." Edward tried a smile. "I would like those things for you, too."

He watched, his pulse quickening, as Leo smiled in response.

"Why?" the prince asked.

Edward almost laughed. "What do you mean, 'why'?" he said, as Leo's eyes glittered. "Would you prefer to be unfortunate and uncontent?"

"No... no, I mean... why do you wish them for me?" Leo bit his lip. "Why would that make you happy?"

Edward realised there was only one honest answer he could give.

"I don't know," he said. Supposing he should offer at least some idea, he added, "It would make me proud."

Leo flushed, his gaze as warm as the candlelight.

"Thank you for the book, Edward."

Never in his life had Edward longed so much to lean forwards, place his lips to someone's forehead and linger there, just to feel them breathe. The feeling was almost overpowering in its potency. It took him several seconds to force it down, bewildered by the strength of his own response, reeling a little with the thought—and, worse, with the thought that it would only be natural. To cup Leo's cheek in this moment, stroke a thumb across his lips, would not feel at all amiss.

He could almost feel Leo nuzzle him in response—safe in his embrace and at peace.

"You're very welcome," he murmured. He smoothed Leo's blanket into place, raising himself quietly to his feet. "If you ever wish to talk, Leo... I hope it will be to me."

 


	8. Position of Trust

With so much occupying Edward's days, it was easy not to notice them accumulating.

On the morning of Thursday, the eighth of March, he let himself into Leo's rooms at eight o'clock as normal. He settled at his desk with his customary cup of assam, opened his laptop and had just finished responding to the previous evening's e-mails when he heard Leo's bedroom door click open.

The prince appeared a few moments later, sleep-pale and a little crumpled in his pyjamas. His hair had tufted up on one side from scruffing it against his pillow.

On sight of Edward, he smiled. He rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand.

"I knew you'd try it," he mumbled.

Edward hesitated, tea cup halfway to his mouth. "Try?" he said. He found himself with an overwhelming desire to gently comb Leo's hair. "I fear I've missed something."

Leo eyed him with a glitter, one eyebrow lifting. "Trying to kid yourself I'm unable to count to seven," he said. "It's your day off."

Edward's stomach dropped. It had entirely slipped his mind, and with good reason—his enforced days off had grown more unsettling and inconvenient by the week. Last time, Leo had confiscated his laptop to ensure he didn't simply work upstairs in his bedroom. He'd spent the day rearranging his bookshelves, planning the coming week's tasks by hand on lined paper, and generally feeling rather useless.

At the look on his face, Leo chuckled.

"I know," he said, softly. "I know you hate it. It's alright, though. I've decided I can't leave you to flounder on your own this time... so I've made plans."

_Lord._

"Plans?" Edward watched with concern as Leo idled into the room.

"Mm hmm. We're going for a walk." Leo reached out a hand to the lid of his laptop, closing it with a gentle snap. Edward watched his files and inbox vanish. "I thought we could go out to Tantallon Castle. It's by the sea—two hours or so from here, but it's a nice walk. Auldhame way. Mrs Ross has made a picnic for us and the weather's dry all day."

Edward's eyebrows rose. He eased them back down, wholly unaware he'd started to smile.

"It seems I have no choice in the matter," he said.

The prince's eyes twinkled. "Go get changed. We'll have breakfast then head out."

"Will Maggie be alright by herself?"

"Yes, she'll be fine. She's still eating and her temperature hasn't dropped—no kittens today. She'll probably just keep your chair warm until we're back."

 

*

 

"We met a month ago today," Leo said, as they passed through the woodland bordering the estate. The leaves stirred, damp and soft beneath their walking boots; the sunlight dripped through the canopy above in pale gold speckles. "Did you realise?"

Edward had watched the date approach for almost a week. He smiled, adjusting his scarf against the playful endeavours of the early March breeze.

"I noticed," he said. "An entire month since the only job interview I've ever spent kidnapped in a forest."

Leo glanced back at him over one shoulder, his eyes bright with amusement.

"It worked out well for you, didn't it?" he said. "More interviews should be like that. People are always more honest in the open air."

Edward couldn't say he'd ever noticed.

"I certainly don't blame you for seeking honesty," he said. "It's the first thing I'd want in an employee... and I imagine it was reassuring to check our compatibility."

"They could have made my life a misery, if I hadn't. Shackled me to some—gods, I don't even want to imagine..." Leo leant down to retrieve a stray crisp packet from a bush, crumpling it into his pocket. "I knew they'd like you," he said, dimly. "As soon as I saw you."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. You look respectable. Like you'd be a marvellous influence on me."

Edward's mouth quirked. "You say that as if I've since shown my true colours," he protested. "I happen to hope I will be a good influence on you."

Leo looked around at him, grinning. "An influence towards respectability?"

 _Lord help me, I must endeavour to find you less charming._ "I certainly don't plan on influencing you to the contrary."

"Out of interest," Leo said, turning to walk backwards, "what _do_ you plan on influencing me towards?" He regarded Edward from a few metres ahead, thumbs hooked into his pockets, matching Edward's pace step-for-step. "I'd like the chance to prepare myself."

Edward ignored the wild and quiet thought that flickered through his mind—backing Leo without a word against a tree; taking gentle hold of his wrists, pinning them out of the way; leaning close.

He took a moment to select his answer.

"Your true capacity," he said at last, and watched the prince's smile grow.

"My true capacity for... what?" Leo asked.

Edward passed his tongue behind his teeth. "I'm yet to decide."

 

*

 

It made quite a sight above the cliffs: a medieval curtain wall of dusty red sandstone, fifty feet high and three hundred feet long. The portion of the headland it blocked off was defended on its other sides by a steep downward drop into the ocean.

A brisk and blustery wind shivered through the surrounding long grass, sharpening Edward's senses with the scent of salt and rock.

At ten to eleven on a weekday morning, they seemed to have the place to themselves.

"What do you think?" Leo asked, as they stood atop the battlements together, leaning on the crumbled wall and looking out across the sea. The breeze had flipped his collar around his neck; it tousled his hair across his eyes. "Do you like it?"

Two gulls swept their way along the cliff edge, calling to each other. Edward watched them with pleasure. "It's certainly stirring," he said. "I imagine most would find it rather isolating here."

"Do you?" the prince asked.

Edward thought about it for a moment. "Yes," he replied, "but it's no bad thing."

Leo huffed, enjoying the answer.

"It's always peaceful here," he said. "It's... I don't know. Another world." He hesitated, filling his lungs with fresh air. "It's hard to imagine my family in a place like this. Perhaps that's why I like it here."

Edward watched over his silence, letting him think.

After a few moments Leo glanced at him, almost apologetic. "I know we're not meant to enjoy being alone. I know family is meant to be..."

Edward gave him a quiet smile. "For a significant proportion of the population, time alone is vital. It's a required part of processing the world."

"You think?"

"Mm. Even ordinary lives need pockets of solitary reflection. For a life like yours, experiencing the pressures that you do, this kind of withdrawal is absolutely critical."

Leo smiled a little, still unconvinced. "You make it sound so reasonable."

"Is it not?"

"Not... to my family."

As the month had passed, Edward had found it more and more difficult to restrain certain thoughts, prevent them from becoming remarks. Being alone with Leo like this, distant from the house and its inhabitants, made it all the harder.

He took a moment to ensure he'd cleaned them from his mind, with no trace of contempt left in his tone.

"We no longer live in an era of castles and armies," he said at last, looking across at the prince. "It means the gentler classes must wage their wars over canapes and conversation instead. For those disinclined to canapes and conversation, it's an unfortunate development."

The prince's mouth curved.

"Maybe I should bring back the old ways," he said, eyeing Edward. "Have a stronghold with a moat built for myself in the grounds... archers in the windows, to keep the hoards away..."

Edward swallowed his smile, once again wiping clean his mind.

"I'll make inquiries of local contractors," he said. "What depth of moat?"

Leo's eyes twinkled. "We could just seize this one," he said, with a shrug. "Ready made."

"Partly ruined," Edward added. "I'm not sure Historic Scotland would be too pleased with you, either."

Leo hummed. "Imagine the headlines," he said. "And you'd have to sort it all out, wouldn't you? You'd be negotiating the siege on my behalf, emailing out my lists of demands... what a wonderful footnote in history that would make."

 _Scamp._ "Dare I ask your demands?"

"Peace and quiet," Leo said, without a blink.

Edward's heart squeezed. "Anything else?"

"No," Leo said. "That's it."

"Mm. Fortunately," Edward said, stretching a little as he straightened up his back, "I believe that with a little time, and more than a little care, I can fulfil both these demands for you without needing to besiege a single listed monument. Shall we see the rest?"

 

*

 

They found a bench, sheltered from the wind by ruined walls, to sit and eat their sandwiches. Mrs Ross had been generous with the picnic; Edward had a feeling she'd included two slices of carrot cake purely to tease him.

"Are you enjoying your day off?" Leo asked him, as he poured two cups of coffee with care from their flask.

"I am," he confessed, a little surprised to say it. "I'm only sorry you've had to give up your free time to supervise me."

"Can I admit something?"

"Please do."

"I wanted the company." Leo reached inside their picnic bag for packets of sugar, flashing him a smile. "Nice to have you to myself for a while."

They'd now spent a long and comfortable month together, largely very much alone. Most days, Edward spoke to Leo far more than any other person.

"Is that not normally the case?" he asked, as he handed Leo the small plastic cup.

"Away from the house, I mean. It's... different, somehow." Leo tore open a sugar packet between his teeth. "More honest," he added, emptying its contents into his coffee.

Edward found himself intrigued, watching Leo stir the cup.

"I'd hate to think you believe I've ever been _dis_ honest," he said.

Leo smiled at once. "I _knew_ you were going to say that." He drew his feet up onto the bench beneath him, shuffling a little to face Edward. His smile hadn't waned. "There's a difference between _dis_ honest and _less_ honest. It's nice to feel _more_ honest."

This track of conversation seemed to be leading somewhere. Edward had the feeling he was being coaxed into conversational woodland, persuaded from the path and into greater privacy.

As he peeled back the lid on a small pot of milk, he said, with care,

"I'd propose there's a difference between honest and forthcoming."

Leo processed this. "Do you feel more forthcoming out here?" he asked, as he blew across his coffee.

Edward supposed that depended on what Leo hoped might come forth. "Do you feel more inquisitive?"

There came a moment's pause, in which he heard the sound of a risk being taken—a decision being made. The prince watched his coffee attempt to steam, each wisp swept away by the breeze in an instant.

"Are you gay?" he asked.

The question rippled gently beneath Edward's skin. He felt it pass along his arms, up his back and over his scalp, prickling and heating, changing. He took a moment to let its impact disperse, and let the tiny surge of his pulse calm.

He reached without expression for the teaspoon.

"Some might think it inappropriate for me to answer that question," he said, as he stirred his coffee. He could feel Leo's gaze on the side of his face, taking in every detail of his reaction. "I wouldn't ever wish you to be uncomfortable in my presence."

He took a glance at Leo as he cleaned the teaspoon with a napkin.

The prince's smile seemed careful, quiet.

"I wouldn't be uncomfortable," Leo said. He paused, his eyes dimming. "I'm sorry, if it was inappropriate to ask."

Edward's stomach tightened.

"No," he said, as gently as he could. "No, not at all... I don't resent your curiosity, Leo. It's simply a case of..." He sought for words, aware of his heart now beating hard. Every way of phrasing it seemed too blunt, too brutal—or too close to the bone. He forced himself to make an attempt nonetheless, hoping this sounded rather less vulgar outside of his head. "I suppose I have a certain responsibility towards you. Exposing you to some aspects of my private life might be considered a breach of that."

Leo bit the corner of his lip. He pulled it, slowly. He glanced at Edward's mouth.

"You're not in a position of trust," he said. Edward didn't quite understand why it made his temperature dip; why he'd still be hearing those words in the back of his mind, weeks from now. "You're my secretary, Edward. Not my form tutor."

Edward supposed that was indeed the case. If anything, in the relation of a secretary towards an employer, the authority did not lie with the secretary—and their gap of age was not an adult to a child. It was an older man to a younger man, one who he suspected shared certain life experiences.

 _If he feels comfortable enough to ask,_ he thought, _and I feel comfortable enough to answer, the only suggestion of impropriety would come from an external source—a purely theoretical one._

He lifted his gaze, considering Leo gently.

"It's been many years since I had any kind of intimate relationship," he said, with care. It caused his heart to quicken, strangely. He wished he hadn't used the word 'intimate'; it clung somehow. It lingered, conversational perfume, and its scent was awkwardly beguiling. "But, as it causes me no shame for you to know... yes. I am gay."

Leo's expression didn't move. His fingers tightened on his coffee cup, and Edward felt sure for a moment that something was about to be said—something he'd pencilled into the back of his mind, in the very first second that Leo's eyes met his own.

Leo lifted his cup and took a long sip. He winced a little at its temperature.

"Do your family know?" he asked.

Edward felt his heart slow. _Not yet, then,_ he thought.

"My mother possibly suspected," he said, "but we never had cause to discuss it."

"You... never brought someone home?"

The thought was almost enough to make Edward laugh. He'd sooner have thrown himself beneath a bus than arrived in her quiet, peaceful sitting room with some boyfriend to introduce, some new anxiety to keep her awake all night.

"No," he murmured, remembering. "No, I kept that side of myself very separate." He chose not to add the explanation he might have: that he'd rarely lingered with someone, and certainly not long enough to let them close to his heart. Closeness hadn't been the culture, then. Cambridge was a string of opportunities to be taken, and to linger openly with just one person would have been thought mawkish—as sentimental and strange as sleeping with a stuffed animal at night.

But he hardly wanted Leo picturing those days.

He looked up, offering a faint smile. It barely changed his mouth. "Youth is wasted on the young, Leo."

Leo held his gaze. "Freedom is wasted on the free."

"Yes... yes, it is." Edward lifted his coffee cup and took a sip, testing its heat. It felt too hot still. He drank it, all the same. "After university, my career took over as my primary concern. I... suppose we could say I've prioritised in life."

Leo smiled a little, curious. "Did you ever come close?"

"To—?"

"Someone. Marriage."

It seemed dreadful now, that he'd never even considered someone for candidacy. There were men he'd found appealing, men he'd been happy to see—but he'd always been glad to walk away in the end. He feared sometimes that it made him heartless. He'd not been opposed to the arrival of some marvellous person—far from it.

But his employment had kept him warm and safe at night far more often than a lover had.

"If I did," he said at last, with a glance of regret, "I'm afraid it skipped my notice."

No matter how many times he heard it, Leo's laugh would always delight him. He smiled, a little guiltily, and followed the prince's gaze out to sea.

"I've never met someone like you," Leo said.

Edward's heart stirred. "I'm glad to say the same."

"I'm sorry, if I've asked too much."

"I'm sorry if I've said too much."

Leo glanced at him, amused. "You haven't," he said. He brushed back the ruffled black mess of his hair with both hands. "It's nice to know you a little better."

They drank coffee in contented quiet for a while, watching the ocean breathe and the seabirds circling a distant outcrop of rock.

"Would you like to go down to the shore?" Leo asked, at last.

"Mm. I'd love to."

 

*

 

Out of the castle grounds, twenty minutes across the cliffs surrounding the bay brought them down to Seacliff Beach. It was the sort of wild, rocky stretch of shoreline where no-one in their right mind would ever lay out a towel, breathlessly cold with thick thorn bushes bristling only a few yards from the sea.

As he picked his way down the rocks to reach the sand, Edward sensed he was suddenly unaccompanied. He glanced back to find Leo hovering at the edge of a deep step down, some distance back, attempting to summon the courage.

"Not all of us were blessed with your height," the prince chided him, black eyes bright as Edward returned to lend assistance. "I don't usually come down this way."

Edward tempered his smile as well as he could, holding out his gloved hands.

"Here," he teased, "short-legged lesser mortal. Kindly don't injure yourself while under my supervision. I haven't filed a risk assessment."

Leo laughed as their fingers wrapped tight, steadying himself.

"I'm a bloody prince!" he said. "I'll give you 'short-legged lesser mortal'—!"

He stepped down onto the rock with Edward, holding on as he stabilised his weight.

Edward tightened his grip.

"There?" he said, with an open smile—and he'd never stood this close to Leo before, close enough to catch his scent—and he realised with a squeeze of his heart that Leo would fit almost perfectly beneath his chin. It would feel so easy simply to gather him there, hold him, wrap him up against the breeze.

The prince's eyes danced as they looked up at him, full of humour and fondness. "Yes, thank you. You're not forgiven the impertinence."

Edward kept hold of his hands; he couldn't bear to let go.

"Strange," he said, stepping back, leading Leo with him down the rocks. "I was never insolent until I entered your service. Now it happens alarmingly often."

"You take advantage of my good nature," Leo retorted with a grin. Missing his step, he wobbled a little and stiffened. His hands seized around Edward's. "Were you a mountain goat in another life, may I ask?"

"So it seems."

"Mhm. Well, I look forward to hearing your ideas on how to get me back up these rocks."

"'From beneath and shove', I think, your highness."

Leo smirked. He released one of Edward's hands and swatted for him, laughing as Edward simply caught it again.

"We nixed 'your highness'," he said. "Stop showing me respect in order to tease me."

"Is it additional respect or additional insolence you're wanting?" Edward asked, mildly. "I'm receiving mixed messages."

"You'll find out when we get to the sea," Leo said, grinning, gripping him, "and I shove you into it. Bloody human."

Together they eased their way down the final rock, their feet stepping softly into the pebble-strewn sand.

Releasing Leo's hands almost hurt. It was a quiet and painful torture to step away, snapping this tiny thread of closeness. Edward turned himself towards the ocean as if to consider the view, taking a few seconds to clear his head; Leo brushed down his coat.

"They say the ocean's meant to be good for us, isn't it?" the prince said. "Something about the air."

"Ions, I believe..." Edward arranged his face into a smile, reassured by how natural it felt. "Considering a paddle, are you?"

"In March?" Leo said. "In North Berwick? Takes a brave man in August." He knelt down, scooping a few small pebbles from the sand. "Do you know what time it is, by any chance?"

Edward retrieved his phone from the pocket of his coat.

"Almost three o'clock," he said. He noted his utter lack of mobile reception without surprise. "Are you thinking for Maggie?"

"Sort of," Leo said. "She'll be fine, I'm just..."

"Shall we aim to leave by half past, perhaps?"

"Yes. Yes, alright. That seems reasonable." Leo appeared at Edward's side, brushing the sand from a round grey pebble he'd found. He showed it to Edward, pleased. "Shall we walk to the end? There's sea glass, sometimes. We could collect a bowl of pebbles for your office."

At twenty past three, with pockets full of debris, they returned to the rocks.

These first few were flat enough; Leo could almost certainly manage them unaided.

Edward stepped up, reached back without a word and offered Leo his hand.

It was taken with a smile.

 

*

 

On the last mile of the return journey, Leo grew quiet. He still wanted to walk at Edward's side, close together within a pocket of silence, but his willingness to chat gently dimmed. Some weight had clearly settled on his thoughts.

Suspecting the source of his discomfort, Edward permitted him his quiet. He watched over Leo's privacy in his own head as they walked, hardly needing conversation to entertain him. To be silent with someone, and yet comfortable, was a state of being he'd always found rather refined. It was rare and reassuring. It spoke of trust, intimacy; this quiet mile was a memory he suspected he'd keep.

In sight of the house, as they walked the cherry tree-lined drive together, Edward gently dispersed the silence.

"Thank you for facilitating my day-off," he said. "It was very restful... and I'm very grateful for the company."

A reluctant smile broke through Leo's expression. He glanced up at Edward, fond, his hands still deep within his pockets. "Thank you for coming with me. I'm grateful, too."

"I assume I'm still banned from my office until tomorrow morning?"

Leo thought about it. "From your _office,"_ he said. "You can come to my rooms to see Maggie or borrow a book, if you want. No work, though."

_And to see you?_

"I think I shall," Edward said. "Thank you. Perhaps after dinner."

They crossed the courtyard towards the front door, sinking once more into silence.

Just before they reached the step, Edward paused. He couldn't allow them both to cross that threshold without offering some kind of reassurance. As Leo stalled beside him, he moved in front of the prince, blocking his path for just a moment.

Leo looked up at him, pale.

"I know it's helpful for you," Edward murmured, and watched Leo's eyes round, "this kind of time. This kind of... distance. If you ever need it in future, I'd be happy to accompany you. You needn't take it alone unless you wish."

Leo visibly swallowed.

"Thank you," he said. His gaze flickered. "And—thank you for your honesty. Earlier. I... I appreciate it's maybe improper that I asked, but..."

Edward smiled, gently.

"Not at all. You didn't ask anything I was disinclined to answer." He wondered for a moment if it was too much to say; he then realised he couldn't bear not to. "I'm very content for us to be friends, Leo—if that's something you also want."

Quiet relief suffused Leo's features.

He seemed to struggle with something for a moment, his jaw tightening.

"I should have taken the chance to tell you earlier," he said. He pulled his eyes away from Edward's, glancing awkwardly back along the drive. "The last thing I want to do is make your position here difficult—a-and I'm sorry if this does. I'm really sorry. I just—I'd rather you hear this now, when we're like this, than leave it until I—"

The sudden crack of the door made them jump. It swung wide, casting a sweep of light across their faces.

Edward turned, his back drawing straight at once.

Rex looked out at them, one hand on the door. After a long and unimpressed examination of Edward, he turned his coal black eyes upon his son.

"Ready to explain yourself?" he said. "I bloody well hope you are."

 


	9. Stand Between

For one wild moment, the words almost left Edward's mouth. _'There's nothing untoward taking place, your highness. The prince simply accompanied me on a walk.'_ An irrational certainty had seized him by the stomach, stiffening his every muscle: Rex knew. He'd been present somehow, watched their playful teasing and their touching; he'd seen enough to make assumptions about the rest of Edward's mind. Though his thoughts were not intentions, and never would be, Edward was about to answer for them.

He glanced aside at Leo, hoping to impart a look of calm and reassurance.

Leo didn't see it.

He was staring back at his father, pale, with an expression of unmissable guilt.

"Why?" he said, lifting his chin. Edward's pulse began to climb at the sharpness of his tone. _No. No, don't be defensive. That will not end well._ "What do I possibly have to explain?"

"You know _exactly_ what," his father near-growled, "and don't pretend for a second that you don't. And you were party to this, were you?" he added, glowering at Edward as he held the door wide. "Unacceptable. In, both of you."

"Party to what?" Leo said, holding his ground on the step. All colour had bled from his face. "What exactly are you accusing me of?"

"Your highness," Edward intervened, attempting to project calm over Rex with every atom of his being, "I have a feeling there's been some misunderstanding."

Before another word could be said, Leo's mother appeared in the doorway behind her husband. She was flushed, visibly close to tears and dressed in pale pink silk and pearls, as if she'd been entertaining.

Upon sight of her son, her face fell.

"Oh Leo, how _could you?"_ she said, in despair. "I've been reminding you for three weeks..."

Thinking quickly, Edward watched without a sound as Rex's eyes rolled.

"He didn't forget," Rex told his wife, bluntly. "Take one bloody look at him. He shot off this morning as fast as he could. Now here he is, traipsing back when he's decided the coast is clear. They planned this. Both of them."

Elena ignored him, her mouth tightening.

"Leo," she said, and took the door from Rex's hand to block him from the conversation, "darling... _the Allhallows._ Luncheon on the eighth. I reminded you a hundred times. We were so embarrassed. They brought Rosalie and Kitty and Ghislaine, and you weren't even here to—"

"Gods almighty!" Rex blasted from behind her. _"He did this on purpose!_ You realise that, don't you? All you did was remind him when he needed to bolt!"

"Rex, _please._ I'm trying to—"

"This is exactly the bloody problem. You, treating him like he's an adult, when you know damn well he's still acting like a child—"

As he felt Leo draw back with distress beside him, shrinking from the noise, Edward inhaled.

He strode forward onto the doorstep.

"Your highnesses," he said, and stayed loud until their argument faltered and they started to listen, "this error regarding the luncheon is entirely my fault. I realise now what has happened. I can explain, and I assure you the mistake is mine."

"Edward—" he heard Leo gasp behind him.

Edward continued, drowning Leo out.

"The prince mentioned it to me in the second week I was here," he said, entirely calm as they stared at him—Elena, pale and distressed; Rex, one breath away from rage. "I remember now. I recall the detail that their daughters would also be in attendance. I failed to add it to your son's schedule, and I failed to remember the event this morning when I asked the prince to accompany me on a walk."

He realised he was addressing himself to the princess royal; he held her gaze, letting it be so.

"This was wholly my responsibility," he said to her, his voice level. "I apologise without reservation. The prince should not be held accountable for my mistake."

Elena's gaze flickered. It moved over his shoulder, into the face he knew was cowering behind him.

"I reminded you," she whispered. Exhaustion filled her eyes with glossy tears. "I _reminded_ you, Leo... you should have been here..."

"It was my duty to remind him, your highness," Edward said, quietly. "Not yours. As the prince's secretary, I'm responsible for ensuring he's in attendance where he should be. I'm deeply sorry to have failed you in this instance. I'm sorry to have caused you embarrassment."

Elena hesitated, gazing at him.

She drew a short and gentle breath.

"Oh no," Rex cut in, before she could make a sound. "No. Don't you _dare._ You're actually going to fall for that, are you?"

Her eyes fluttered shut. "Rex," she whispered.

"Hook, line and sinker. Of course you are."

_"Rex—"_

Rex pointed past Edward's shoulder towards Leo, a jab of a finger which Edward immediately stepped to block.

"He's been skipping around the bloody woods all day without a care," Rex shouted at her, "insulting us, insulting the Allhallows—and you're going to let the bloody secretary take the flack for it, are you? _They're manipulating you!"_ he roared. "Gods, can't you _see it?_ They've been planning this since you told him the bloody Allhallows were coming!"

A hand pressed in the centre of Edward's back. He felt it gather around a handful of his coat, shaking.

Edward held his ground.

Elena started to shout back at Rex, raging through her tears.

His voice overpowered hers with ease.

 _"—genuinely_ believe it, huh?" he jeered. "You're going to let that stand? Secretarial screw up? Fine." His eyes flashed. _"Sack him._ Sack the bloody human this instant for incompetence. He's meant to be here to stop this happening, isn't he? If nothing's changed, what's the point of him?"

Before Edward could even draw breath, Leo pushed past.

 _"You have NO AUTHORITY OVER MY SECRETARY!"_ he raged at his father, who shoved his wife aside to meet Leo face-to-face on the doorstep, towering over his son, his eyes igniting. Leo shouted with all his worth. _"Don't you even SUGGEST—"_

Edward's heart lurched into his throat. He lunged for Leo's arms to pull him back. "Leo—"  

 _"Rex!"_ Elena screamed. She grappled for her husband. "Rex, _stop it!_ Stop this, _please!"_

A voice came resounding through the noise, rippling from within the house with a force and depth that slammed the breath from Edward's lungs. He felt it vibrate in his every organ; the ground beneath his feet seemed to shudder.

 _"ENOUGH!"_ it commanded, in a tone of thunderous calm.

The four of them cowered, ears ringing in the sudden silence.

Edward raised his head, panting, to the open front door.

Standing on the staircase in the hall, with a pale-faced Caroline at her back, the queen surveyed them all with intense and unyielding disapproval.

There came an awful silence.

"Elena," she then said, so quietly it was almost a murmur. Every hair stood on the back of Edward's neck. "Kindly go and compose a letter to the Allhallows. Tell them my grandson was distraught to have missed their visit, and only hopes they'll stay for longer on the next occasion."

Blinking back tears, her head held high, Elena turned from the door and hurried away across the entrance hall.

The queen waited until she'd gone to continue.

"Rex," she said. "Leave."

Rex's jaw worked. It looked for a moment as if he intended to say something—then he swallowed it, straightened up with a sneer, and in a whirl of what looked like black smoke, he vanished. He dissipated into the breeze as if he'd never been there.

Edward's pulse skittered against his ribs, unnerved.

Exhaling, with a distinct roll of her eyes, the queen turned her gaze onto her grandson.

"Leo," she said. "You will not subject one of the oldest and noblest families of our community to any such insult again. In future, when you're summoned to luncheon, you will be there. You will now retire for the evening to meditate upon your conduct."

Leo hesitated, visibly shaking.

"It was my fault," he said. He swallowed, raising his voice. "It was all my fault. It wasn't him. Please don't send him away."

The queen raised an eyebrow.

"Goodnight, Leo," she said.

Edward watched, unbreathing, as Leo moved towards the staircase. It seemed to take an age for him to ascend them and pass out of sight, his head down, his expression pale and silent.

At last, the queen turned her attention to Edward.

"Mr Whitby," she said. Edward felt his lungs constrict, his eyes trained on Caroline in silent panic. _Please, no. Not like this._ Caroline gazed back at him, desperate. "Why is my grandson suddenly so keen for company, when he takes himself off into the wild?"

Edward responded as calmly as he could, every nerve in his body alight.

"I believe he appreciates the chance to discuss his developing thoughts, your majesty. The prince seems to regard me as a source of clarity."

"Is that so?" she said, intrigued. "And what is it you're hoping to make clear to him?"

Edward braced himself. "That there's little substitute for dignity, ma'am."

The queen considered this for some time, her expression unmoving.

She then gave a small, brief smile.

"I'd like to speak to you on Monday morning," she said, as it vanished from her mouth, "regarding your progress on my grandson's engagement. I want to know what you've arranged so far."

She turned. With a nervous glance at Edward, Caroline turned to follow. They passed out of sight along the corridor together, leaving him alone by the open front door.

His heart beat hard in the silence.

All the way to the door of his bedroom, the house seemed to echo. Every corridor stood empty; the chaos of two minutes before had dropped into a sudden, lifeless calm.

Edward let himself into his room, thinking only of peace and quiet to clear his mind.

Leo looked up from the couch at once, lifting his head from his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said desperately, and got to his feet. "I'm so sorry. Y-You didn't need to—you—d-did she—"

As he reached Edward, he reached out.

Edward caught his hands before they could make contact—and in the aching silence that followed, as he released Leo's wrists, a small part of him wondered precisely what Leo had intended to do.

He shut the door before another word could be spoken, waiting until its terse and quiet snap had sealed the room.

"With prior warning," he said, breathed in, and fixed the prince's gaze, "I might have handled that rather more successfully."

Leo's eyes darkened with distress.

"I won't let her," he whispered. He started to shake, his fists tightening. "I won't. You're _not_ leaving. I'll over-rule her."

"I have not been dismissed," Edward responded, numb. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so weary, why every cell in his body ached to be alone. "My position is not forfeit. I don't intend to leave. Now, please—listen to me."

In silence Leo waited, gazing at him across a single foot of distance.

"If you wished to avoid a social commitment," Edward said, quietly, his eyes locked into Leo's, "then I'd have aided you willingly. I could have arranged a convenient and far more believable excuse. There was no reason to mislead me."

"I'm sorry," Leo whispered. "I... I didn't think they'd care so much. It was only a bloody lunch, it's not like—"

Edward's throat gripped.

He didn't mean it to sound sharp—but he was speaking before he could stop himself.

"Regardless of importance," he snapped, as Leo stuttered into silence, "or severity, or detail, I am willing and ready to lie for you. And I'd hoped that was clear. I'm better at it when I know the circumstances, Leo—when I am a participant. Not an accessory."

Leo gazed at him, distraught. His mouth opened nervously to speak.

After a moment's hesitation he closed it, tears darkening his eyes.

Through Edward's mind flashed a memory from only hours ago, now as distant as if it had been weeks—the same face that stood before him, not crying but laughing, hopeful hands wrapping around his own, the breeze from the waves ruffling Leo's hair.

His heart strained at the thought.

It had felt so marvellous to be alone that way, two souls quietly together by the sea, that he'd almost entirely forgotten himself. He'd permitted some temporary reprieve of his senses—a reprieve of his position, his age, his responsibilities—and it had taken no more than a few smiles, a little fresh air, a secret or two shared.

 _All to avoid a luncheon,_ he thought. _To pass a few hours._

The distress it caused him seemed so childish, so petty and so small. He couldn't bear to hold onto it.

He forced the memory aside as he inhaled, telling himself stiffly that it was hardly Leo's fault he'd attached some sort of sentiment to the experience—a sentiment he should have driven from his thoughts on first sight, not giddily indulged.

_Not that I indulged._

_Not that there was anything to indulge._

He looked Leo in the eye, taking a moment to settle his voice.

"Forgive me," he murmured. "That was... out of turn. A clumsy way to beg your confidence in future."

Leo said nothing, reading his face, still visibly on the verge of tears.

"I believe I'm fatigued from the walk," Edward added, his heart thudding with distress at the sight. "Your... father's approach to conflict management is unsettling to me. I'm sorry."

He couldn't bear the lack of Leo's voice. The words he'd already said now hung heavy in the air around them, as thick as fog. He couldn't return them to his mouth, cram them back down his bloody throat.

It seemed the only solution was to prevent any more from arising.

"You must want to check on Maggie," he said, with a breath. He looked away from Leo's gaze, before the guilt there could drive itself any deeper into his memory. "And I should change out of these boots. Perhaps we should agree to put this behind us. No harm was done."

Leo swallowed. Edward watched him force something back, something which hurt to push down. "I-I'm sorry," the prince said. "I mean it."

"It's quite alright." Edward reached for the door handle, quietly opening it. "I shall see you in the morning, Leo. Have a restful evening."

Leo took the hint. He left without a sound, even his feet silent on the floor.

Edward shut the door behind him, turned the key, and for some time simply stood with his fingers curled around the handle, his eyes closed, struggling to ground himself within the tumultuous quiet of his room.

Mistakes had been made today, he thought.

The trouble was isolating where the mistakes had begun, and what was merely consequence.

 

*

 

Caroline arrived with the box and a bottle at eight o'clock.

"Bottle first," she said, setting two wine glasses on his coffee table. Edward eyed the sizeable cardboard box with concern, rubbing his fingertips between his eyebrows. "Believe me, you'll need it."

"Am I right to be afraid?"

"Yes," she said, uncorking the wine. She filled the first glass to within a centimetre of its rim, then slid it very gently towards him. "Where were you both, out of interest?"

"A long walk. Nothing of importance." Edward picked up the glass; he shut his eyes as he drank. He could almost feel the stuff seeping into his veins. "Between ourselves," he said, as she topped it back up to the brim, "I hadn't the faintest idea about the luncheon. I've never even heard of the bloody Allhallows. If the queen asks you, I knew every detail and I take full responsibility."

Caroline bit her lip. "It was noble, what you did," she said. "A bit transparent," she added, filling her own glass, "but noble. I'll admit I worried for a second."

Edward inhaled, slowly.

"Mm. So did I." He drank, settling himself with the scent of wine. It was the aroma of adulthood and responsible decisions; if he was lucky, he'd absorb something from it. "Who were these people he was so desperate to avoid?"

"The Allhallows? Old friends of Elena's... along with their three daughters, all of legal age and all immaculately turned out."

Edward snorted softly. "On the subject of transparency."

Caroline hummed, drinking.

"Terrible waste of make-up and hairspray," she said. "Still, always nice to make painful small talk with Elena over mini quiches."

Edward held in a sigh. He couldn't blame Leo for wishing to avoid it. All the same, it stung to have been utilised in such a fashion. He'd spent the day under the impression that his company had been sought for enjoyment; in fact, he'd been cast as an accomplice. Leo had presumably watched the time passing with relief, waiting for a suitable hour to roll around so they could return.

"Do these... _apparently_ casual visits happen often?" Edward asked, rescuing his thoughts from places they ought not to be.

"Quite a bit, these days. When Leo started turning down invitations, everyone suddenly took interest in casual weekend trips to Scotland. Speaking of which..."

Caroline tipped back a mouthful of wine, put her glass aside and stood up, shunting the hefty box across the coffee table towards them.

"This is everything that came through me as Leo's de facto private secretary," she said. "If anything was sent to him privately, I'm afraid I don't have any record of it."

Edward took a wary sip of wine, shifting forwards in his chair.

As she removed the lid, he found himself looking at enough opened letters to fill a postbox. His spirits fell another foot or two.

"All social invitations?" he asked, glancing up.

Caroline nodded. "Balls, private dinners and receptions, all held within the last year... and all very much hoping Prince Leo would be able to attend."

"All populated," Edward supposed, raising an eyebrow, "by hoards of hopeful young ladies in their finery?"

"Yep. Every noble family with a daughter—and most of them do—has tried to throw her in Leo's path. So far, he's dodged the lot."

 _If only they'd thought to throw a son._ Edward kept the thought from his face, reaching into the box to pick up a thick wedge of letters. He inhaled as he shifted through them.

"How many of these did the prince attend?" he asked.

"A few. Not enough, if you ask his mother. Not nearly enough, if you ask his grandmother." Caroline retrieved a plastic folder from inside, checking the white label on the flap. "These are all the upcoming invites... things get quiet over winter, so there's been a lull. They start up again in April."

"And how many of these events is Leo due to attend?"

In response, there came only an uncomfortable pause.

Edward made a deduction. "He's not going to any of them."

Caroline nodded, biting her lip.

"Does the queen know?"

"I don't think she wants to hear it," she said, with a sigh. "I've... _possibly_ kept some of these outside of Elspeth's knowledge, just so that she..."

"—doesn't realise the scale of the problem," Edward supplied.

Caroline winced. "Put it that way."

"Has he given any explanation?"

"Other than that he hates parties?" she said, taking her seat on the sofa beside him. She reached for her glass. "There was—you know, I probably shouldn't say. It's likely nothing."

Edward frowned. "Go on."

"Well... the last thing he _did_ attend was a celebration for their new year, back at the end of October. He was staying with the Allhallows that weekend. I get the feeling there was some unpleasantness."

Edward felt his heart grip strangely. "'Unpleasantness'?" he said.

"Nothing I've heard about from any other sources," Caroline said. "If anything happened, it was privately. He came back... changed, though. Quiet. He's not really spent time with anyone but Maggie and Delphine ever since."

Edward didn't respond, trying to think.

After a few seconds of silence, she added,

"It could be nothing. Maybe he's just decided he's tired of it all. Honestly, Eddie, I wouldn't blame him."

Edward doubted Leo's grandmother would accept that excuse. He brought his glass back to his mouth, murmuring, "No, nor would I," and took a drink.

Caroline watched him, eyes sad, as she rubbed her thumb along the stem of her wine glass.

"I'm sorry this has fallen on you, Eddie. I really am."

Edward supposed he'd been aware of the situation when he signed the contract. He'd let it drift to the edges of his mind; he'd focused his attention on other things. "Quite alright," he said. "Such is the primary duty of the private secretary."

"Mm?"

"To stand between."

Caroline smiled, weakly. "Do you have a plan?" she asked.

"I'd hesitate to use the word 'plan'," Edward sighed. "I have a rag-tag assortment of inclinations and ideas. If we're fortunate, red wine will work its magic overnight and I will arise in the morning with a perfectly assembled solution."

"Might take more than red wine to solve some things." Caroline raised her eyebrows. "If he's gay, for instance."

Edward ignored the tightening of his stomach. He covered the skip in his composure with a drink, saying only, "I've seen no evidence to suggest as such."

"But if he is?"

"Then, like everything else, it will be handled—and crossed when we come to it." He reached for the lid of the box. "The path we walk through life is rarely the first we imagined," he said, wearily. "We walk it all the same."

 

*

 

Red wine and a bath were usually enough to get to sleep, even in times of stress.

As midnight came and went, and Edward found himself gazing listlessly at his darkened ceiling, he concluded that on this occasion they'd failed him. Certain thoughts now resident in the back of his mind simply refused to be soothed. They could only be nudged aside, and not for long. The distress had an almost gnawing to it, eating at him, grinding him over and over within its teeth. _I have embarrassed us both._ He couldn't bear to relive the memory in detail—chastising the prince with all the dramatics of an injured fifteen-year-old. _For god's sake. As if I have any right._

He'd tried to settle himself in his journal, but seeing his own idiocy written out in sentences only made him feel worse.

_'Dear journal, unfortunate development. I've suffered myself to nurture some cloying sense of entitlement to the prince's affections. Unsurprisingly, he regards me as a professional resource. I somehow have the nerve to be surprised.'_

He shuddered at the thought, shutting his eyes to the ceiling. Some things shouldn't be committed to record.

 _This night marks a limit,_ he told himself. _I will use it to restore myself to order, then in the morning, exhibit only entirely professional behaviour._ He needed to view Leo as he'd viewed the countess and her family. He needed to realise, fully, and with the punishment of sleeplessness to aid him, that the prince was not some fellow undergraduate at Cambridge—that he himself was not twenty-one again—that he'd been employed to influence Leo towards responsibility and maturity, not to hurl aside twenty years of a carefully-tended career and start pining after the boy with all the indignity of a sad spaniel tethered outside a corner shop.

_It is his youth and vitality I crave. His stage of life. He is a symbol to my miserably ageing mind, that's all._

The suggestion of anything else was almost laughable.

 _Some sort of... crush,_ Edward thought with a quiet tut, pushing back his sheets and sitting up in bed. He rubbed hard into the corners of his eyes. _Some romantic preoccupation. As if I would genuinely entertain the possibility. Two decades his senior, many social classes his subordinate, and to boot, a separate species._

_Ludicrous._

He splashed cool water into his face in the bathroom, taking breaths between each handful.

_My protective tendencies. Concern for his welfare, misfiring in my mind. That's all._

Patting his face with the towel, he straightened his back and drew a breath. He faced himself in the mirror.

 _In the morning,_ _sense and dignity._ He hung his towel up with care. _This has been an advantageous opportunity to avail myself of both._

As he returned to bed, intending to read, he spotted a slender rectangle of light now glowing on his bedside cabinet. His mobile phone had illuminated, ringing in silence.

 _INCOMING CALL,_ the screen read. _LEO._

The bedside lamp wobbled wildly as Edward lunged for the phone.

 


	10. Wonderful

Edward answered the call with a strike of his thumb, lifting the phone at once to his ear.

"Leo?" His voice came out dry with the lateness of the hour. He cleared it as he stabilised the lamp he'd nearly upended, his heart thundering in the quiet. "Are you alright?"

Leo's breath seemed to break at the sound of his voice.

"I'm sorry—I'm sorry to wake you up, a-and I know you're angry with me, I'm sorry—just—c-can you come down here, please?" 

Before Edward could ask, he heard a second voice come over the line: a pitched, fretful meow.

"I'm sorry," Leo gasped, audibly in tears. "C-Can we—can we just pretend I didn't r-ruin—please, please, I  _ need _ you to be here—"

Already halfway to the stairs, Edward swapped the phone to his other ear and forced his arm inside his dressing gown. 

"I'm on my way," he said. "Is your door unlocked?"

"Y-Yes—"

"Good. I'm coming down. I'll be there very soon."

"Okay—"

As he entered Leo's rooms, he found the lounge cloaked in darkness. Light from Leo's bedroom offered only an unmade bed. Edward strode to the next door along, his own office, and found the lamps on with a tear-stricken Leo in pyjamas, standing distraught beside his desk.

At the sight of him, Leo's face crumpled with misery and guilt. "I-I'm  _ sorry—" _

Edward would never be certain which of them moved first. He had Leo in his arms before he'd even noticed his feet stepping forward, and as he held Leo beneath his chin, shaking, the question of who had caused it couldn't possibly matter less. He cradled Leo, gripping him gently across the shoulders, the other hand carding slowly through the soft black scruff of his hair.

"Shhh... shhh, now, it's alright..." He pressed his face to the top of Leo's head, closing his eyes as the prince cried against him. "I'm here," he murmured, flooding his voice with softness. "I'm here, Leo... hush... it's all alright..."

Leo convulsed against his collarbones, struggling to breathe. 

"Where is she?" Edward asked, gently.

Leo uncurled from his chest, trying to push aside his tears with his fingertips. "S-She—" He gestured in distress towards Edward's desk. "I didn't w-want to move her—"

"Of course not. Here, show me." Edward moved behind his desk with care, bringing Leo with him. He knelt down and discovered Maggie beneath in her cat bed, slumped on her side and panting. 

At the sight of him, she gave a fretful trill. He couldn't see any sign of injury or blood, nor kittens either.

"Is she alright?" he asked, turning his head to Leo. "Is this normally what happens?"

"I-I think so—I just—s-she wouldn't settle for ages, a-and I—I couldn't—"

"Is this panting usual?"

"Y-Yes—"

"Alright. Well, she seems as comfortable as she can be for now. I'm sure she's doing everything she needs to." Edward realised his hand was rubbing up and down Leo's back. Heart pounding, he let it continue. "Is there anything we can bring her? Anything we should have on hand?"

Leo curled closer to him, still shaking. "N-No," he said. "No, I brought her f-food and water—and I brought her bed for her..."

"Good. If we think of something else, we can find it." As Leo pushed nervously back into his arms, wanting to be held, the combined surge of guilt and relief shut Edward's eyes. He couldn't bring himself to pull away. He couldn't end this contact, aching to the bone with the need to be needed. He let his weakness buckle, gathered the prince inside his dressing gown and rubbed his back with one hand, passing the other gently over his hair. As his heart thumped, he flattened the soft tufts of Leo's hair beneath his fingers. They sprung back with each stroke; the prince smelled of sleep. It was more comforting and wonderful than Edward had even imagined. "There... shhh, now... Maggie's quite alright... she has you to support her, mm? And you have me. Everything will be fine."

Leo swallowed, his tears now dampening the collar of Edward's shirt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Despair wracked his shoulders in a shudder. "I'm s-sorry—I didn't mean you to take the blame—I-I didn't mean you to do that, why did you do that?"

Edward's soul heaved. He hushed Leo softly, and began to rock him from side-to-side.

"I spoke abominably to you," he said, shutting his eyes tighter. "I am desperately sorry. Forgive me."

"I-I  _ behaved _ abominably—"

"You did not, Leo. When these luncheons are such a transparent cover for matchmaking, you have every right to resent them."

"I meant  _ to you,"  _ Leo wept into his shoulder, his breath cracking. "I behaved abominably  _ to you, _ I m-meant—I-I should have just gone alone, not e-endangered you—w-when you started telling them it was all your fault, I f-felt so—... gods,  _ why _ did you take the blame?"

Edward hushed against his temple, shaking; the prince stuttered into silence. He stroked between Leo's shoulder blades, letting him cry, and only spoke when he felt Leo's breath begin to even.

"I did it because that is my job," he said. "To place myself in front of you, no matter the circumstances. Leo, I... I reacted poorly, when we spoke. I distressed myself, thinking you'd established me as an excuse with purpose. It was not your intention. I am very, very sorry for how I spoke to you."

Leo shook. His arms tightened around Edward's waist.

Edward breathed back what felt like his heart, passing his fingertips through Leo's hair to calm himself. "Have you been distressed since we parted?" he asked.

Leo nodded, convulsing quietly against his chest again. 

_ And now Maggie, and you need me. You want me to be here.  _ "Shhh, now... you needn't cry anymore. I'm not angry, and nothing is ruined."

"M'sorry—"

"So am I. For what it's worth, I will always be willing to provide you with excuses. I'm afraid to say I'm rather good at it, and we'll have far more success with our efforts combined. Is that alright?"

Leo nodded, nestling into his arms.

Edward stroked a quiet circle against the nape of his neck.  _ God help me.  _

"Shall we commit ourselves to Maggie for the night?" he murmured. "I know very little about feline parturition. This will be quite the learning experience. Will you be patient with me?"

A tremor passed through Leo's shoulders. 

"Th-thank you," he whispered. "Thank you, Edward—"

"Not at all." Edward concentrated on the feel of Leo's hair between his fingertips, distracting himself from the agonising need to press his lips to Leo's temple. "I'll bring you your dressing gown, and make you a hot drink while you sit with her. Then we'll take things from there."

 

*

 

Edward returned with two very strong cups of coffee to find Leo partially concealed beneath the desk, murmuring to Maggie. He placed the coffees out of harm's way, leant down and took a glimpse. 

She'd tipped over onto her back, purring wearily as Leo gently stroked her abdomen.

"All alright?" Edward murmured, watching.

Maggie strained with a huff. As she pulled herself up, shifting in her bed to turn around, Leo withdrew from beneath the desk.

"I-I think so." He gave Edward a nervous glance, his eyes still red. "I'm... usually better at this."

"You've had a stressful evening. No-one could fault you for feeling overwhelmed." Edward considered the armchair in the corner, thinking. "Would it disturb her if we moved the chair? You can keep watch on her from a distance that way."

"I... I don't think she'd mind, if we're quiet..."

When he had Leo sitting down, with a blanket wrapped around him for warmth and a coffee in his hands, Edward quietly moved his desk chair to the prince's side.

"How long does this stage last?" he asked, watching Maggie pant beneath his desk.

Leo glanced down into his coffee. "Maybe about half an hour."

"And how long is the interval between kittens?"

"It can be ten minutes, or... u-usually no more than an hour..." Leo took a sip of coffee, shaking a little. "I'll call the vet if it's been two."

Edward calculated. With five kittens to come, it seemed likely they would be here the rest of the night.

"I imagine it's our job to observe discreetly," he said, "and otherwise stay out of the way?"

Leo seemed reassured by  _ 'our job'.  _ He took another drink, shivering. "Sometimes she needs a hand if she gets tired, but... i-it's a lot of waiting around. I'm sorry. I've dragged you out of bed, just to—"

"As it happens, I couldn't sleep. This will nicely fill the time."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Mm. Don't worry. I'm glad to be here." Edward tried a gentle smile. "When did she decide my office was to play host to the miracle of life?"

Leo smiled in return, releasing a little bubble of humour—one of his customary huffs, softened out of shape by his recent tears. He held the mug tighter against his chest. 

"I tried to put her in her box behind the sofa about five times," he said. "She just kept getting out, meowing at your door until I let her in..."

"I suppose a desk makes a quiet and sheltered place. I can see the logic."

"Maybe it's you." Leo rubbed his mug with his thumb, not looking at Edward. "Maybe she finds you reassuring."

_ Is she the only one?  _ Edward kept it from his voice. "The honour's all mine, I'm sure."

Leo smiled a little. He watched Maggie for a moment, his gaze quiet, then risked a nervous glance.

"What did my grandmother say to you?" he asked.

There was no easy way to voice this. For a moment, Edward wondered if now was really the time—then, he supposed they had time to fill. If an honest conversation couldn't be had in their pyjamas in the small hours, watching a cat give birth, it probably never could be.

"She wishes to speak with me on Monday," he said, holding Leo's gaze, "regarding your engagement. To ensure it's all on schedule, and to ask what steps I've taken so far."

Leo looked down into his coffee.

"Oh," he said.

_ Oh, indeed. _

"What... are you going to tell her?" Leo asked.

"I'm afraid I don't know," Edward said. "Whatever it is, it shan't be the truth. Of that we can be certain."

He felt Leo shift a little beside him, his gaze still low. "She'll want... progress soon, won't she?" he asked. "Developments. She'll want to know that you're pushing."

"She will." There was little to be gained in denying it. A month's grace had done them no good; all they'd done was postpone this issue. "I'm afraid she'll expect to see me pushing you very firmly."

There came a painful pause. 

"I don't want to get engaged," Leo said. He looked up at Edward, his eyes bright with exhaustion and distress. "I don't want to live like that. I know it puts you in an unbearable position, I just—gods, I... I  _ can't." _

"You needn't justify yourself to me," Edward murmured. "Not for a moment. Sincerely, Leo, I don't wish it upon you either. I'm well aware of the misery this situation has caused you, and I'll do everything in my power to make it end well." 

"Do you think it  _ can _ end well?" Leo said, searching his face.

Edward glanced into the darkness beneath his desk, watching Maggie stir. "It might be to our advantage to discuss our strategy, now, ahead of time. It seems to me we've reached a stage we can be candid with each other. That will help."

"We'll... have more success, with our efforts combined."

"Quite. If we make our choices wisely, I believe we can steer events towards a happy outcome for you. It might take careful planning, but it's possible."

"What outcome would that be, exactly?"

"I can foresee two. Which we reach might depend upon factors outside our control, but the underlying focus and our actual plan would remain the same."

"Okay... okay, I-I'm listening."

Edward drew a breath, taking hold of Leo's gaze. 

"I ask you not to dismiss this out of hand," he said, and waited a few moments for the resulting wariness to ease. "I don't propose to find you a romantic partner—and I certainly don't intend to shepherd you into the kind of situation your parents seem to have. Frankly I'd rather suffocate you with my own two hands here and now."

Leo's face crumpled with amusement and reluctance, trying not to smile. "Then what are you proposing?"

"To find you a friend," Edward replied. "A young woman of patience, calm and stability, who understands from the earliest stage that the two of you will be business partners, not lovers." He kept watch on Leo's expression as he spoke, trying to read his reaction—very little of anything could be seen. "We would find you someone of supremely settled temperament, and your marriage would be peacefully, prosperously diplomatic. You needn't share a bed. You needn't share affection of any kind. You could have romantic relationships outside of the marriage—companions of whatever variety suits you. The two of you would sign a marriage certificate together, she would be acknowledged as your legal spouse, and your grandmother would have no more cause to complain. Your duty to your family would be done."

Leo said nothing for some time, his gaze guarded and soft with pain. 

"They'd want heirs," he said at last. "Children." His gaze flickered. "I'm not doing that. Not even once."

"Very well. You would, of course, assure your family that you're making every attempt."

"But that wouldn't be good enough for them, would it?"

"To be discreet, Leo, there's a limit to the level of intervention they could pursue."

Leo's cheek twitched. "What's the other outcome?"

"We follow much the same plan," Edward replied, "but it is theatre. We suggest to the world that you're very much in want of a wife and taking steps to find one. Between you and I, we know it will never come to fruition."

Leo hesitated, gripping his mug. "You're suggesting we lead someone on. Some poor girl, thinking she's going to be queen."

Edward raised both eyebrows, gently. "You told me a month ago," he said, "on the very day we met. Your grandmother is happiest when she believes the world runs according to her wishes."

Leo visibly bit his cheek. "And what happens on the morning I'm expected at the temple? A ferry to France for both of us, is it?"

"I don't suggest we let things reach that stage. With care, and with some resilience against your grandmother's sense of urgency, we can manage a subterfuge to last several years—ideally with several potential brides, to maximise the time it buys us."

"And then?" Leo said, staring into his face. "What happens when time runs out? Where does this end?"

Edward took a moment to phrase this. "Leo, without wishing to be uncompassionate... your grandmother isn't getting younger."

Leo looked away. He swallowed, shifting his gaze beneath the desk. 

"You're suggesting we keep Granny happy," he said, watching as Maggie raised herself wearily to her feet, turning. She meowed as she slumped back down. "Keep her happy until it doesn't matter."

"Mm."

"And my mother?"

"I'm hoping your mother's experience with marriage might make her more amenable to your situation, once your grandmother's influence on her is relieved. She's more likely to let you marry through choice. I assume the royal line would divert through one of her sisters."

Leo exhaled. He lifted his mug, taking a sip of coffee.

"Aunt Melody has thirteen grandchildren," he mumbled. He shook his head. "I don't know why they've not diverted it already. I'm a—a dead end. A waste."

Edward's heart burned.

"You are a flower, Leo," he said, "not a vine."

There came a moment's silence, heavy in the air around them. It was broken by Maggie, getting up again to shift in her cat bed. 

"If we were going to do this," Leo asked, "what would I have to do?"

Edward ran the situation through his mind, phrasing it before he spoke. "In the first instance... over the course of this summer, attend a number of social events in apparent search of companionship. I'm aware you don't want to," he added, hearing Leo breathe in, "but the alternative is that I'm dismissed as a waste of a good salary, your grandmother employs a new secretary to do her bidding properly, and this miserable cycle continues for you into eternity."

Leo looked down into his coffee. It was a moment or two before he spoke. "You don't understand how much I hate that feeling."

"Which feeling?"

"Feeling like I'm...  _ prey." _ A shudder shook through Leo's shoulders. "The prize. Everyone smiling at me, hoping, trying to judge if I'm sexually attracted to their daughter or not. Then I return here, and I get the third degree. Who I spoke to. Who I danced with. Who I'm planning to see more of."

"Your grandmother?" 

Leo shut his eyes, swallowing. 

"Demanding to know if I've  _ selected  _ yet," he said. He looked up at Edward, exhausted, his black eyes shining in the soft half-darkness. "That's how things were done in her day. You attended a party or two, danced a few waltzes, then pointed at the one you hate the least. I can't do it, Edward. I can't bear it."

Edward's hand moved of its own volition. It settled on the prince's shoulder; it wrapped there, gently. 

He looked into Leo's eyes.

"You're no longer alone in this," he said, as Leo gazed at him. "I'll draw your grandmother's inquiries towards me. Any events you attend, I'll attend with you, deflecting any guests you don't wish to speak to. We'll arrive and leave at times you choose. I'll stay with you at all times, and I'll make the experience as comfortable as I can."

Leo searched his face in silence. He seemed to move some words around his mouth. 

"I trust you," he said at last. He breathed in with it, slowly. "I know you have my best interests at heart."

Edward nodded. No truer words existed. "May I draw up a list of events?"

"Mhm. Show it to me, before you show—"

"Of course. I'd never commit you to something without your consent."

Leo huffed, looking down. "If only everyone else in my life promised the same," he mumbled. He took a drink. "What a miracle that would be." 

Edward smiled a little. 

"A shame for them," he said, "that I'm now here... and that all claims upon your time must go through me."

Leo studied him for a moment, lost, as if trying to figure out what his game was—what the point of it all was, what he wanted. He took in every detail of Edward's face.

"Why do you care about me?" he asked at last. His eyes strayed to Edward's mouth. "Why are you prepared to lie to her?"

A hundred responses came to Edward's mind, not one of which he could say. The reasons would go on for hours if he let them. He watched Leo's pupils grow a little, waiting for his answer, and realised it all came down to a single, now unshakeable truth:  _ because, in spite of all sense, I find you wonderful. _

"Would you rather I lie to you?" he asked.

Leo swallowed. "No. No, of course not."

Edward kept hold of his eyes. "I have to lie to one of you."

Leo processed this, paling. 

"Lie to her," he begged. Edward's stomach knotted as he imagined leaning over, taking that anxious face in both his hands and gently pressing their lips together, stroking through Leo's hair, settling him, petting him, until he knew beyond all doubt that nothing in this world would ever trouble him again.  _ Dear Christ, I need to stop this. I must stop this. I can't possibly let this continue.  _

Leo seemed to shiver, watching him. 

"Stay, will you?" the prince said. "H-Here, I mean. Cridhe. Don't leave. I don't know how I coped, before you. Now I... I almost feel like things might be okay..."

From beneath the desk, there came a loud and fitful meow. Maggie had rolled one back paw into the air to lick herself vigorously, struggling to reach past her swollen abdomen. 

In the same moment Edward spotted the tiny dark shape she was struggling to expel, Leo's hand closed tight around his forearm. The prince gripped him, hard, sitting up in his chair. His blanket slid to the floor.

Edward sat up, too. "Is this—"

Leo watched, his fingers clamping tighter into Edward's arm. "Yes—"

Maggie strained once more, shifting, then bent her head to the damp little bundle. She began to lick it, firm flashes of her tongue to clean its tiny face. 

After a few breathless moments, the kitten squirmed. 

Its cry clenched Leo's grip into iron. Maggie continued to wash it briskly, cleaning the mess from its damp grey fur as it wriggled. As they watched, Leo's fingers loosened slowly from Edward's arm.

Edward's heart released with it, beating once more. The rush of blood left him almost light-headed.

"Four to go," he said. 

Leo shivered. He rose from the chair, knelt down and made his way to the desk as quietly as he could, clearly ready to back away at any moment.

"Maggie?" he said, his voice soft. "Can I come see?"

Maggie lifted her head to him. She trilled, searching for his reassurance; she nuzzled into his fingers as soon as they were offered. 

"Look what you did," Leo whispered. His voice began to shake as he stroked her head. "Look what you made..." He reached a nervous hand for a salmon-coloured hand towel waiting nearby. "Is it okay I'm here, Maggie? You don't mind?" 

He lifted the kitten gently in the towel to her belly; she bent her head to continue the new cat's first bath, stroking it with vigorous sweeps of her tongue. 

Edward watched, feeling a distinct thickness growing in his throat.

"Isn't he lovely?" he heard Leo murmur to her, sitting back with his hands on his knees. "Tuxedo, mm? The stable tom again?"

Edward reached a hand for Leo's empty mug. He picked it up by the rim and got to his feet, slowly, careful not to disturb the quiet that had fallen.

As he passed, he laid a hand on Leo's shoulder.

"I think we've earned tea," he murmured. "One sugar, is it?"

Leo pressed his sleeve against his eyes. He leant against Edward's side, shaking. "Yes please," he whispered.

 

*

 

As Leo placed down fresh bowls of biscuits and water, a faint bleep from Edward's watch informed him it was four AM. The space beneath his desk was now filled with Maggie's purring, dotted by the occasional tremulous little squeak. At her belly, five soft and dry kittens squirmed as they nursed. 

Leo stood up, stepping back to Edward's side; Maggie regarded them both rather sleepily. She stretched with a chirp. 

As they stole a glance at each other, they discovered matching smiles. 

Edward couldn't bring himself to hide it. 

"It seems our job here is done," he said. "What little we had to do."

"Mm hmm." Leo sighed, releasing tension from his shoulders he seemed to have carried all night. "I'll move her in a few hours... get them settled in her proper box..."

"Will she mind you touching them?"

"No... no, she never minds." 

There came a happy pause as they watched Maggie dip her nose, licking the runt of the litter. The kitten whined against her belly, paddling. 

"I always forget how tiny they are," Leo said. "Every single time, I forget. It... rather takes my breath."

Edward smiled, resisting the urge to lay a hand upon his back. 

"Would you like to sleep now?" he asked, as they moved towards the door together.

"Oh—no, actually. I'm still a little jangled." Leo glanced up at him. "Would you... stay a few minutes, if I asked? Just to settle?"

 

*

 

By five AM, conversation began to soften into yawns. They checked once more on Maggie, fast asleep with all her kittens, and agreed that the night had reached its end.

Leo saw Edward to the door. 

They stood there a little while, talking for another ten minutes—then at last, there came a natural pause in conversation. 

As Edward breathed in to fill it with good night, Leo stepped forward.

His arms wrapped without a sound around Edward's neck. They settled together in a hug, as comfortable and matched as jigsaw pieces. 

As he held Leo, his heart pounding, Edward realised he'd thought they were about to kiss—and he would not have stopped it.

Leo squeezed him, gently.

"You've never asked," he mumbled.

Edward didn't move. "Asked?" he said, feeling his hands ache against the boyish curve of Leo's back. He kept them as still as he could.

"Why I don't wish to," Leo said against his shoulder. "Marriage, I mean."

Edward took a moment to reply, not wishing to disturb this perfect and gentle quiet. "I've always trusted your reasons are valid, Leo. I don't need to know them in order to support them."

Somehow, he felt Leo smile. He didn't know what it was—some curious new ease between them, the gentle tightening of Leo's hands. The warmth of Leo's voice confirmed it.

"I don't want to be like my parents," he whispered. "I just... I don't want to be—I-I don't want to live like that."

Edward chose his words. 

"I shan't permit that to happen," he promised, and did his best not to hold Leo tighter. Every fibre of his being screamed for him to tilt his head, just a little, brush their lips together gently and see how wonderful it felt to unleash utter shrieking chaos in hoards across his life. "If I ever see you married, Leo, it will be to someone who respects you without fail. Someone who makes your life easier, not harder. Someone worthy of you."

Leo chuckled softly. 

"I should just marry you," he sighed. "Make it legal. Post the certificate under my grandmother's door, then hit the road before she catches us."

_ Lord.  _ "Perhaps a few hours' sleep, first?"

"Mhm. You're always sensible." Leo squeezed him again, gently. "Goodnight, Edward. Thank you."

The words stuck in Edward's throat; it tightened itself around them, holding them in place.  _ Goodnight, Leo.  _ For some reason he couldn't bear to say it. He simply held Leo for a little longer, his eyes closed, soaking up the prince's scent and this feeling of utter belonging, Leo's heart beating close against his own.

He then let Leo go—gently, sharing a smile—and pulled himself away.

The silence followed him all the way back to his room. It seemed to have coated his skin, sealing him in some other state of being. All he could see were Leo's lips, just a few inches from his own; Leo's eyes gazing at him, full of affection and relief. The actual world now seemed like a projected reality, a place he'd never really been. He felt so distant from it all it left him ringing and empty.

He got into bed, shaking, and laid his head upon the pillow. 

Half an hour later, he got up to retrieve his laptop. He sat back against the headboard as he loaded up his journal, his eyes burning with the need to sleep, his heart aching with the need to think.

He wrote for almost two hours—then selected every word, all nine pages, and pressed delete.

_ Friday 9th March,  _ he typed instead. _ Because I am in love with him: _

_ (1) Distance. _

_ (2) Calendar.  _

_ (3) Soul mates. Speak to C. _

 


	11. The Sociable Sort

The knock came barely a minute after nine.

As Edward opened the door, he found Caroline waiting with a broad grin and a large tin of tuna.

"For our darling mama," she explained, handing it over. She'd topped it with a crinkly purple bow. "Thought she'd prefer it to champers and bath oil. Have visiting hours started yet?"

Edward couldn't hold in a smile. She'd always settled him, he realised—always. It didn't matter what chaos was erupting around them. Caroline arrived with a smile or a corkscrew, or preferably both, and suddenly they might just make it.

"To think I hoped you'd come to answer my cry for help," he said.

Caroline slipped past him with a wink.

"We'll get onto that," she said, as she moved across the lounge. "First things first though, Eddie. Let's have our priorities straight here..."

As she peered over the back of the couch, there came a cheerful trill of greeting. Caroline's face opened with delight.

"And hello to you too, young lady!" she said, as Edward swallowed his smile and came to join her. He placed the tuna quietly on the coffee table. "My goodness, what a wonderful little collection this time... four, is it?"

"Five," he said. He wasn't sure why it made him proud; he'd hardly sired them. "Twenty-eight hours old. Excuse me—twenty-nine."

Maggie chirped, gazing up at them both from her box. The kittens seemed mostly awake for now, nursing. A few tiny squeaks came muffled against her stomach.

Edward watched them fondly for a moment.

"Suspicion has fallen on the tomcat who oversees the stables," he said. Caroline gave a quiet chuckle. "I understand there's precedent."

"I always thought that cat had a glint in his eye..." Caroline reached down, offering Maggie her fingers to sniff. Maggie licked at them. "And nowhere to be seen, eh, Mags? A waste of space, the lot of them..."

She glanced sideways at Edward, her eyes bright.

"Is Leo glad?" she asked.

Even the sound of the name caused Edward's heart to bump. In the day and night that had passed since he'd had Leo in his arms, he'd tried to anchor his focus on work and productivity, on endeavours which could reasonably lead somewhere.

It had kept him occupied, if not quite happy—and, as he told himself with careful regularity, it was greatly for the best.

"Very," he said, lowering his eyes to the nest of blankets. He watched the kittens squirm. "I think he's nearly as proud as Maggie. Still asleep at the moment."

"Bless. Did you get some proper sleep, too?"

"Mm. My head's slightly clearer for it."

"Good." She nudged his arm. "Get some more tonight, will you? You look a bit ragged."

"Ha. With good reason, I assure you."

"Yeah?" She smiled. "What can I help with? Point me at it, Eddie."

 _If only you could solve my self-control._ "Organisation and inside knowledge, if that's alright. I'm trying to speed through a month's worth of careful research and planning in a matter of days, while masking any suggestion that's what I've done."

Caroline's eyes twinkled. "Forgot you had an essay due?"

Edward huffed. He supposed that was apt.

"Don't worry," Caroline said. "The cavalry's here now. Let's take a look."

Edward unlocked the door of his office, leading her into the scene he'd left last night—a rubbish bag stuffed full of envelopes slumped by the door, with piles of assorted letters and invitations occupying every available surface. He'd had the sense to top each one with an explanatory post-it note before crawling up the stairs to bed.

"These," he said, gesturing to the piles on his desk, "are invitations and save-the-dates for the next six months. I have forty-eight hours to transform this volcanic mess into a social calendar which meets with both Leo and his grandmother's approval."

Caroline sucked the inside of her cheek. "Right."

"I know nothing of the senders," he went on. "The names on these invitations might as well be cartoon characters, for all I know. My knowledge of the community is woeful and it means I'm struggling to make informed choices about Leo's schedule."

"Okay. I think I see where this is going."

"If you're willing to help, I would very much appreciate your inside knowledge. Namely—" Edward reached for three empty boxes, set aside on his bookshelf. "—which of these events her majesty would most like to see her grandson attend, if the choice were solely hers."

He placed the boxes on the floor in front of his desk, spaced out.

"These are not parties, dinners and balls." He glanced up at Caroline, watching her understand. "They're applications for a prince. Each of these invitations relates to a young woman, a daughter of hopeful parents hosting an event, and the queen will care for some of them more than others."

He took a pack of markers from his desk, knelt down and scrawled a block of colour across the front of each box as he spoke, green and blue and red.

"I need to know which young ladies she would consider red—a poor match, not worthy of her grandson or his time; which are green, excellent matches—the sort of young ladies she'd be supremely happy to see him marry; and which young ladies are neutral, blue, matches which would be approved even if they were initially a surprise to her. And if you were good enough to aid me in this endeavour, I would gladly repay you with a bottle of something very well-aged and very French."

Caroline grinned. "You know the way to my heart, Eddie... I'll give you that." She reached for the first pile of invites on the edge of his desk, noting the tiny blue sticker adhered to each one. "Blue dots?"

"March," Edward said. "Short notice, but possibly still viable. Yellow triangles are April, red stars for May—"

"Eddie?"

Edward stopped. "Yes?"

Caroline smiled at him, reached for a chair. "Get the kettle on," she said, as she pulled it over. "Mine's a coffee, thanks. Two sugars."

 

*

 

It took over an hour to sort through every pile.

"There. Done. Oh, except for these..." Caroline retrieved the wedge of letters she'd been saving in her armpit, handing them over separately. "Not sure how you'd categorise them so I kept them aside."

"Is there a unifying factor?" Edward asked, studying the names of the senders as he flipped through.

"A significant amount of DNA. They're from anyone too closely related for Leo to marry."

"Ah... yes, thank you... that will be useful to know." Edward reached over to his desk for a clear plastic wallet. "Quite a few of them," he noted.

"Leo has four aunts on his mother's side alone," Caroline said, "and twelve cousins from them. Every single one is the sociable sort."

Edward nodded dimly. He supposed the queen would still approve of Leo attending family events. If anything, such occasions had a comfortable neutrality to them—the prince's attendance wouldn't be seen as some endorsement of any daughters belonging to the hosts.

He sealed the invites inside the wallet, added a sticker and labelled it, then placed it to one side.

"Otherwise," he said, leaning down to pick up the green box, "this is where I should concentrate my efforts?"

Caroline nodded. "They're generally the older and wealthier families," she said. "You'll see the same names over and over... Allhallows, Faxfleets. The big dynasties."

"And the more of these events Leo attends, the more pleased his grandmother will be?"

"Well... some of them, you won't manage."

"Oh?"

"No." Caroline tapped a black card embossed with gold, peeking out towards the top of the pile. "That one, for instance."

"Why, may I ask?"

"Firstly, it's a week from now—and secondly, you'll never in a million years persuade Leo to go. Shame. It's a pretty big event. The rest are very viable, though. I'm sure you'll be able to put a decent calendar together."

Frowning, Edward reached for the slim black card.

"What is it?" he asked, flipping it over.

As he scanned the invite, his eyebrows arched.

Caroline smirked. "Told you."

 

 _Lord and Lady Allhallows_  
_would be honoured by the presence of_  
_His Royal Highness Leo, Prince of the Seelie Court,_  
_at their annual Masquerade Ball_

 _Saturday, March 17th, 2018_  
_from 7 o'clock in the evening_

 _Pentridge House_  
_Chiddingfold, Surrey KT13_

 

"Allhallows," Edward noted.

"One of the other families. Probably _the_ other family, if we're talking Seelie Court." Caroline reached across to the desk for her long-cold cup of coffee. "They're very much significant cheeses," she added, as she drank.

A named house in Surrey and an annual ball had already given Edward that impression. He turned the invite in his hands, noting the thickness of the cardstock and the gold glint of the embossed text. Even producing these would have been a costly endeavour.

"These people were here," he said, glancing at Caroline. "They came to lunch."

"That's them. Selwyn and Cordelia—Selwyn's the heir to the family. He and Cordelia have held these parties for years now."

"And the two of them are parents to..."

"Three very lovely and very hopeful young ladies—Rosalie, Ghislaine and Kitty, all of them single and ready to mingle. There's a boy, too. Zachary. I'll make you a family tree," she added, correctly interpreting the look on Edward's face.

He inclined his head.

"Thank you..." He leant back in his chair, considering the closeness of that gold embossed date. "And this event is a noted fixture of the calendar?"

"Mm, major. Delphine's very excited about her costume this year. I understand it's got horns."

 _Lord._ Edward ran his tongue behind his teeth, thinking.

"So... this is the big plan, is it?" Caroline asked, smiling. "Drag horse to water, hope he drinks?"

Edward snorted. He began to shuffle through the other invites, glancing over the details of each in turn.

"This is a short-term measure in hope of appeasement," he said. "Her majesty wants a show of willingness. Leo understands that. He wants his grandmother to understand that his reservations aren't simply pig-headed stubbornness. He stands a better chance of gaining her understanding if he demonstrates it first."

Caroline's eyebrows lifted. "He's  _agreed_ to go to events again?"

"If I accompany him," Edward said, sorting the pile of invites into date order on his lap, "and if he's permitted to leave when he chooses."

"Wow." Caroline leant back against the edge of his desk. "I'm impressed, Eddie. Honestly, I am."

 _Mm._ "Amazing what happens when a highly intelligent and very reasonable young man is permitted to actually express his thoughts."

"It sounds like he's really opening up to you."

Edward took a moment to construct his response, well aware of whose ears it might eventually reach.

"The prince is incredibly thoughtful," he said, neatening the edges of the invite pile. "He loves his family very much. The hostility surrounding this engagement issue distresses him greatly and he wants it to end. He's willing to return himself to uncomfortable situations in order to prove it. I only hope his grandmother can find it in her heart to reward him with a little patience."

Caroline hummed.

"I think we all hope that," she said. She watched as he returned the invites to their box. "If you have questions while you're putting together a calendar... family details, connections... remember I'm just upstairs, won't you?"

Edward reached for a marker pen, uncapping it with his teeth. He labelled the box as he spoke.

"I fear you're becoming indispensable, Caroline. My world would have long since collapsed into wreckage without you."

"'Something well-aged and French', you say?"

"Extremely so, in both cases." Edward transferred the box safely to his desk. As he returned the marker pen to the pot, he remembered with a tightening of his heart the other issue he'd wanted to ask her about—and realised he could put it off no longer. "Before you go... I had a query regarding etiquette. There's a thought half-forming in my mind, but I thought it wise to check with you before I let it form any further."

Caroline smiled, mildly. "Mm? I'm listening."

It felt intensely strange to discuss this. He'd thought about it long and hard, reaching the conclusion that Leo's happiness came ahead of all other considerations—and far ahead of his own softer sentiments.

"The birthmarks tradition they have," he said. "This business of... 'soul mates'. You said etiquette generally reveals them upwards?"

"Generally," Caroline said, intrigued. "It's seen as a bit unsavoury to ask a social superior about their mark. Suggests you think they've got something to prove to you."

"But... the opposite way around?"

"Probably not the first question you'd ask at a bar, but sure." She smiled, watching him close up the red-labelled box and slide it into place upon a shelf. "Has to be handled discreetly, of course."

"The sort of thing I'd be wise to broach with great care?" he said.

"Well... if we're talking about royal matches, there _is_ precedent. When they were looking for a husband for Elena, her parents put out an announcement asking for details of marks on any eligible young men... we've still got the responses boxed up in the attic."

"Really?"

"Mm. Mostly from mothers, giving details on behalf their sons. Those men'll be in their sixties now. It's... fairly tragic reading through them, to be honest. Letter by letter, Elena's hopes fading away."

Edward pressed his teeth into the inside of his cheek. "So... if I made a similar proposal to the queen, it wouldn't necessarily be considered unsavoury?"

"Not necessarily. I mean, you'd need Leo's agreement first. Worth suggesting though."

 _Mm._ Edward nodded, storing the thought away at the back of his mind.

"Thank you," he said. "Just another branch of possibility I'm considering." He hefted the box of second-grade invites onto his desk, flashing Caroline a weak smile. "I'm afraid I can't have too many at the moment."

Her response was interrupted by the click and creak of a door out in the main room. A moment later, a sleepy Leo appeared in Edward's doorway. He looked as if he'd been conscious for no more than a minute or two, wrapped up in his dressing gown and soft blue pyjamas, still a little pale, rubbing his eyes.

Spotting their visitor, embarrassment stopped him in his tracks. He flushed.

"Oh—hello, Caroline..." Leo's voice rasped, dry with sleep. "I didn't realise you were here. I'd have dressed."

Caroline's eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Not to worry, your highness. I've seen far more scandalous things in my time than a young man in his pyjamas."

Leo chuckled, squinting sleepily at Edward. "Nothing to do with you, I hope?"

Edward's heart strained at its leash.

"Perish the thought," he said. "I'm sure Caroline will confirm my conduct is as impeccable now as it ever was, your highness." He reached for the kettle, switching it on. "Tea?"

Leo settled into his usual armchair, pulling his dressing gown close around his chest. "Mhm, thank you."

"Tea, Caroline?"

"Alas," she said, "unless you need me for anything else, Eddie, I'd better shuffle myself back upstairs. Time waits for no woman."

"Very well. I'll leave my undying gratitude outside your door tomorrow evening, shall I?"

"You'll then knock on the door, bring it inside and drink it with me," she said, amused. "Life's too short to be grateful alone. Good day to you, gentlemen. Scream if you need me."

The prince watched her go, fondly, fiddling with the sleeve of his dressing gown. As they heard the main door shut behind her, he turned his tentative smile across the office.

"Giving you a hand with something?" he asked. He gathered his socked feet into the chair.

Eyes down, Edward added a bag of assam to a tea cup.

"Caroline is fortifying the shoddy walls of my knowledge," he replied. It had always been difficult not to stare at Leo in his nightwear. Since learning how it felt to hold him in that state—all softness, all scent—Edward had frankly thought of little else. He kept his hands busy as he spoke, rearranging the tea tray. "She was kind enough to do some sorting for me. It should make my task for the rest of the day a little easier. You seemed to sleep well?"

He heard Leo yawn, shivering. "I honestly don't remember the last time I slept this late," the prince said. "I must have needed it."

The kettle began to boil. Edward switched it off with a click and upended it carefully into Leo's mug, watching the teabag unfurl within the hot water.

"How did you sleep?" Leo asked.

Edward's brain had shut itself down the very second he'd stepped into his bedroom. "Rather heavily," he admitted. "My sleep cycle has lost some of its flexibility over the years. It tends to punish me if I now challenge its authority."

He reached for a teaspoon. They might as well discuss this now, he thought. It would keep his head in focus for the day, if nothing else.

"May I bother you with a work question?" he asked.

"Sure," Leo said. "Bother me."

"Did you have plans in place for next weekend?"

"No... I don't think so. Why?"

"Caroline brought something to my notice. An event. It's a little last minute, but I thought it might be beneficial for us both to attend."

"Oh?" Leo stayed quiet for a moment, watching him stir a spoonful of sugar into the cup. "Which event?"

Edward tapped the teaspoon on the side.

"A masquerade ball," he said. "I understand it's an annual occurrence, hosted by—"

"—the Allhallows."

The hollowness in Leo's voice was impossible to miss. Edward glanced up, concerned.

He found a distinct look of unease coming back at him.

"Is that a problem?" he asked. Leo said nothing. "It might provide an opportunity for me to learn some of the people in your community... and the nature of the event means you'd be able to keep a low profile."

Leo watched him carry the tea cup over, his gaze heavy with some unwanted thought.

"It's a little close, isn't it? Will we even have time to—?" He gestured across his face, indicating a mask. "People work on them for months."

"With the intention of standing out. I'm certain we could find you something subtle within a week..." Edward handed him his tea, gently. "Simple black, perhaps. A frock coat and boots. Something in which you feel comfortable and low-key."

Leo held the cup in silence, uncertain. Edward gave him a moment to think, knowing he'd be unwise to press too firmly—but rather desperate not to waste this opportunity.

"Is something else concerning you?" he asked.

Leo weighed something in his mouth. "You'd be with me all the time?" he asked, looking up.

Edward's forehead tightened. "Of course."

"You promise you won't leave me by myself?"

A cold, quiet whisper of concern curled across the back of Edward's neck. "I promise," he said. "And we'll leave as soon as you wish. Even an hour would be enough for me to familiarise myself with a few faces."

Leo nodded, a little numb. "I don't want to stay at their house."

The whisper made another pass, stronger.

"We could spend the night at your family's property in Chester Square," Edward suggested. "Failing that, perhaps a hotel... make our way back to Scotland the next morning..."

"And... this would help you?"

"It would help both of us. I'll be able to make better decisions regarding your social calendar, and your grandmother will believe I'm having a positive influence on you. She'll be more likely to trust me when it comes to your best interests."

Dimly, Leo nodded. He took a moment to speak.

"I can't believe you've talked me into this..." He looked up at Edward, inhaling, his face tight with an expression that suggested he already regretted his agreement. "If it's unbearable—"

"I'll help you bear it." Edward held his gaze. "Or I'll remove you from the situation. Whichever you wish."

There came a strange and careful silence. It seemed to linger between them, pulling.

Edward took a risk. "Leo, is there some... history with the Allhallows I should be aware of?"

Leo looked him in the eye.

"No," he said.

Edward hadn't been lied to so blatantly in many years. He couldn't exactly drag it out of Leo, though—whatever it was. He offered a smile, hoping to ease this nervous quiet. "Did you have plans for the rest of the day?"

The warmth did not return to Leo's eyes. "I might redraft my essay," he said. "Go for a walk, maybe..." He glanced down, stirring his tea in a listless circle. "You'll just be working, will you?"

"I'd like to have your calendar filled up until August before I speak to your grandmother on Monday." Edward hesitated. "I'll check it with you first, of course."

"Okay. Thank you. That's—I'd appreciate that."

There came another pause.

Leo shifted a little, flashing a weak smile at him. "We still need to watch _Maurice."_

Edward's stomach tugged. "So we do."

"I'll get hold of some wine, shall I?"

 _Unwise._ "Mhm. A box of tissues might be rather more useful."

Leo tried another smile. He looked down at his lap as it faded, still idly stirring his tea. "Might make a nice reward for after the Allhallows ball," he said. "Could you bring the DVD with us, please?"

"Of course." Edward returned to his desk, settled behind it and reached for the box of first-degree invitations. "I'll make sure it's packed."

"What are you going as?" Leo asked, with quiet interest.

It took Edward a moment to make the connection. "To the masquerade ball?" he said. He hadn't really thought about it. "Something discreet, I imagine... I'd be attending as your servant, not a guest. It's best if I select something functional."

Leo considered this, half-smiling.

"I'll go," he said, "if I can pick your outfit."

 _Lord._ "That seems... reasonable. Nothing ostentatious."

"No, nothing like that. I don't want us to stand out."

 _Why do you wish to...?_ Edward didn't dare ask.

"Very well," he said, uncertain and relieved at once. He watched Leo take a sip of tea. "May I contact the Allhallows and tell them you're coming?"

Leo seemed to brace himself, making his peace with some buried thought.

"Yes," he said at last. "That's fine. Tell them to keep it to themselves, will you? I don't want a fuss..."

"Of course."

"And can we fly, please? I don't want to be away from Maggie for long."

"I'll book it now."

"Okay. Good." Leo gathered his tea in both hands. "I'd... better go say good morning to her."

"Mm. Oh, Caroline brought tuna. I left it on the coffee table."

"Did she? That's sweet of her..." Leo stood up, trying one last smile. "Is there anything you need for the day? Anything I can help with?"

 _Ever gracious,_ Edward thought. _Ever kind._

He smiled in return, as cleanly as he could.

"I should be fine, your highness," he said. "Thank you."

Leo hesitated, reading his face.

"Alright." He looked away, heading for the door. "Have a good day."

 

*

 

Leo checked in only briefly at eight PM.

"You will sleep, won't you?" he said, watching from the doorway with an unreadable expression. "I don't think I've seen you leave your chair all day."

Edward reached for the next invitation on the pile. He flipped it over to scan for the address, his eyes straining. It had been a long and repetitive day.

"Yes," he murmured. "In a short while. I'm making good progress."

Leo gave a soundless nod, hovering for a moment longer. He then slipped out of sight, as quiet as a small ghost.

His door was closed when Edward passed it at ten. No light came from beneath.

He said goodnight to Maggie, with a gentle rub of her head, and numbly locked the door behind him.

Upstairs he took a short shower. He got into bed, his heart and mind aching for rest, and reached to the bedside for his phone.

 _Saturday 10th March,_ he typed, gazing at the brightly-lit screen in the darkness. His chest tightened. _Keeping my distance is crippling me. But it is greatly for the best and will become easier with time. Calendar under construction._

_Re: other possibility. Have now spoken to C._

_Tomorrow, speak to D._

 


	12. Tea

Edward reached Leo's rooms on Sunday morning to find them empty, with a note slipped quietly beneath his office door.

 

_ Whitby, _ __   
_ I'll be out with Delphine all day. I don't know when I'll be back. _ __   
_ Can you please keep an eye on Maggie? _ _   
_ __ L.

 

"Damn..." Edward breathed, rereading. He was expected before the queen tomorrow morning. He'd hoped to have everything ready. 

_ Saints spare me, did I truly expect to put together a month's careful planning in a single weekend? This is entirely my fault.  _

_ And at least I'll be focused.  _

_ Not pining over him all day. _

He added this setback to his long mental list of recent poor decisions, crumpled the note into his wastepaper basket, and went to say good morning to Maggie.

When she had everything she needed, he made himself a coffee and sat down to work.

Every hour, he got up to check on her. She chirruped each time he appeared, licking his fingertips. It was difficult not to feel guilty. He doubted she'd still greet him so fondly, if she had any understanding of how poorly he'd treated her prince. He hardly deserved her affection.

Then, it was comforting to have her company. 

These rooms were always quiet without Leo.

At twelve o'clock, during one of her trips to her litter box, Maggie came to visit—winding around Edward's legs as he typed, chirping; sniffing his hand as he reached down to pet her; checking each corner of the room in turn, curious, gazing up at his empty armchair with a puzzled meow.

Realising, Edward felt his heart twist.

"I'm... sorry he's not here, your highness..." Maggie looked around at him, trilling; her tail lifted. "I imagine he'll be home for you this evening."

Maggie blinked. She told him, with a long mewl, that she certainly hoped so, then idled off out of the room.

Edward topped up her biscuits and her water, changed her litter box for her, made himself a lemon tea, and got back to work.

He continued without a break until six, at which point the need for food began to muddle his thoughts. He hadn't eaten all day. He spotted his first two mistakes—an event added to the wrong month of the calendar, a processed invite placed back into the box to be processed—then forced himself to close his laptop. Continuing in this state would only lead to problems. It justified the break in focus.

As he microwaved a portion of leftover lasagne, silently drinking coffee at the staff kitchen table, Edward promised himself he was making better progress than he thought.

He had an appointment with a costume maker in Edinburgh arranged for tomorrow afternoon. Leo's calendar of social events during the London season was taking shape. Lord Allhallows' secretary had also sent a very gracious response in acknowledgement of Leo's rather last-minute RSVP, passing on his lordship's delight at Edward's message. The Allhallows looked forward to welcoming the prince to their home next weekend; if Leo had any requirements, he need only ask.

It felt as if it wasn't nearly enough.

Really, Edward thought, he had good reason to feel that way. 

He suspected the queen would consider sufficient progress to have been made when she saw her grandson standing at an altar with a suitable young lady upon his arm, dressed in white. Until that moment, there was work to be done. He should be speeding things onwards without delay; the delay he'd caused already was unforgivable.

This position was the gossamer-thin safety net that prevented him from falling a long, dizzying drop into nothing. He'd nearly been tossed onto life's scrap heap. He now served a royal household. 

The flutter of soft and youthful feelings shouldn't have been enough to distract him from that miracle. 

They were feelings he could never act upon, after all. The affections of the prince existed—quite properly—so far beyond him that their light would never reach him. He simply couldn't know Leo that way. It wasn't possible in this life. Nothing would change that.

He could make Leo happy, though. 

He could keep the queen happy until the issue had passed, and there was peace—and this position would give him a home, give him a livelihood and a sense of pride and achievement. He couldn't undervalue those blessings. 

This distress would die away. It would leave behind only its bones: dignity.

When he'd eaten, Edward washed everything he'd used and made another coffee. He carried the cup back upstairs with him, settled at his desk, and was in the process of opening his laptop when an odd little squeak caught his attention.

He frowned, glancing around the office. 

Nothing appeared to be amiss. Everything seemed much as he'd left it, quiet and cosy in the light of his evening lamp. 

Supposing these floorboards were chatty at the best of times, he put the noise out of his mind. He entered his password, opened up his calendar, and had just clicked back through to July when a second little sound caught his ear.

Realisation dawned. 

Carefully Edward wheeled back his chair, leant down beneath his desk—and came face-to-face with Maggie, stretched out on her side with all five kittens nestled at her belly.

She chirped in greeting.

Edward restrained his sigh, but not his smile. 

"Good evening, your highness... I see you've relocated?"

Maggie began to purr, padding slowly at his carpet. He'd never seen anyone look so pleased with herself in all his life. Edward moved his chair aside, got down onto his knees and reached beneath the desk to her, gently rubbing her head with his thumb. She trilled, butting against his palm; her kittens' tails quivered as they suckled.

"These small creations of yours are very nice," he murmured, "but you cannot keep them here. I'm incompetent, you see. It means I have a great deal of work to do. Let's return them to your box, shall we?" 

Maggie trilled. She watched with interest as he very gently detached two of the kittens, holding them with the utmost care around their middles. They squirmed in his hands, their mews so pitiful it caused him physical pain. 

He settled them in their blanketed box behind the couch, murmuring, "There, little ones—wait here..." and returned at once for the other three. 

Maggie sat up as he reappeared. She watched him pick her kittens up, curious rather than concerned, and followed him with interest as he carried them through to the lounge.

He placed them in the box next to their siblings, not quite daring to breathe. 

Dutifully, Maggie climbed in to tend to them.

"There," he said, his heart finally beating again. She settled down and began to lick them all vigorously, telling them where she was with gentle chirps and purrs. "That's vastly better, mm? Now I can work undisturbed, and Leo won't worry you've all gone missing... it shouldn't be much longer before he's home."

Maggie harrumphed, slumping out on her side.

Edward topped up her biscuits and returned to his desk.

_ And now the calendar,  _ he told himself, reaching for the box of invites. He could process the rest of these within another two hours if he focused. It would be finished. He could face the queen with dignity in the morning, knowing he was a responsible influence in her grandson's life.  _ Work as if our livelihood depends upon it, man.  _

He did so, doggedly, barely moving in his chair except to reach for another invite. His throat shrank with thirst; he couldn't justify the break in concentration it would take to make himself tea. He needed this to be done before Leo returned. Even if there was no sign of Leo tonight, the prince could look over the calendar first thing in the morning. It could still all be fine.

Edward entered the final event into the calendar with his eyes nearly burning, each keystroke as weary as a marathon runner's final steps. He hit save in triumph, saved a back-up immediately to his USB stick, e-mailed himself a second back-up, and then slumped in his chair in exhaustion. The lumbar support creaked in protest. 

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling in almost post-coital relief, wondering when he'd last felt this satisfied. He suspected his age had begun with a three. Pinpointing it any further was beyond his faculties at this moment.

Something brushed against his ankle.

Edward looked down, startled—to find Maggie peering up at him, her tail draped across his shoe.

_ "Brrrrp?"  _ she inquired, as her kittens squirmed.

Edward's mouth worked. He tried in desperation not to smile; her round blue eyes saw through it in a second, and he knew it.

"I admire your tenacity, young lady," he said.

Maggie huffed. She settled on her side, stretched out to the tips of her toes, and went to sleep.

Edward watched her for a while, strangely soothed by her trust. 

He hadn't the energy to move them all again. He would, of course, as soon as he'd recovered a little vigour. For now he let himself rest as he was, his brain aching, his shoulders sore, his eyes closing for a second or so to ease their strain. 

_ Still suffering my disrupted sleep cycle,  _ he told himself.  _ Still... somewhat raw, emotionally. A minute's peace will do me a world of good.  _

_ A few moments to breathe. _

 

*

 

"Whitby?"

The murmur of Edward's name lapped through his consciousness, coaxing him towards the surface. He felt hands rest hesitantly on his forearms. 

"Whitby..."

"Has he nodded off?" asked another voice nearby.

"He works too hard... I've tried to tell him..." A careful hand laid in the centre of Edward's chest. He felt his heart jolt gently beneath its touch, jogging him free from the fuzz of his dreams. "Edward?" Leo said, as he drew a deep breath. "Are you awake?"

_ Lord... I-I must have just...  _ "Mm?"

"You fell asleep," came the nervous murmur. Edward opened his eyes to a lamplit blur. It focused slowly to show him the prince, gazing down at him with quiet concern. "Hello," Leo said, softly.

Edward took a moment to return his first response to the depths, where it belonged. 

"Hello," he said, a little gravelled. His voice caught in his throat; he coughed. "I... I must have drifted off..."

Leo was barely inches away. One gently reaching arm, and he'd be in the chair with Edward, cradled against his chest, close.  _ Hold you. Run my fingers through your hair. Tell you how sorry I am.  _

"Were you working late?" Leo asked.

"Ah... your calendar of events. I have to present it to your grandmother in the morning. What time is it?"

"S-Sort of midnight."

"'Sort of'?"

Leo hesitated. "A little past," he admitted, flushing. "Delph and I were at the pub..."

_ Hardly the time to check six months of social events with you.  _ "I see. I... I realise you might wish to sleep late, if you've been drinking—but if I could have an hour of your time in the morning, before I—"

Leo intervened with a weak smile, dropping his gaze. 

"It's... fine," he said. "Whatever you've decided. Just tell her I agree."

Edward hesitated. He searched Leo's face, disarmed. "You... don't wish to check first?"

With a breath, Leo settled some thought. 

"Honestly," he said, "if it was my choice, I wouldn't go to any of them. I'd tell you just to throw it in the bin. But it's out of my control, so... it's fine. Delph's said she'll come to everything with me. She's said she'll look after me."

_ Oh.  _ "You're... quite certain?" Edward asked, unsure what else he could say.

Leo nodded; the smile did little to dispel the look in his eyes. "I'm certain," he said. "Thanks for arranging it all. I appreciate your work."

Edward found himself suddenly aware of Delphine in the doorway—observing, listening, saying not a word.

"Do you want to get some sleep, maybe?" Leo said. Edward glanced into his eyes. "If you're speaking to my grandmother tomorrow morning, I mean. You'll want some rest."

"Oh—yes. Yes, that's probably best." A thought occurred. "Maggie has sequestered my office as a nursery," Edward said. "She's quite welcome to stay in here, if she wishes."

"It's okay," Leo said. "I'll move her when you're gone."

There came a pause.

"I'll see you in the morning," the prince added. Edward realised, unnerved, that he was being given a hint. He reached out to close his laptop.

When he had it zipped into its bag, tucked beneath his arm to come with him, he stepped into the lounge to find Leo and his cousin hugging by the door. 

"Thank you..." Leo mumbled into her tousled purple hair.

Delphine patted Leo on the back. "Be good to yourself," she said, gave Leo a last squeeze, and opened the door. "It'll get easier."

Edward watched her go, sensing an opportunity.

With equal relief and concern, he realised Leo didn't intend to delay him.

"Good night," the prince said, holding the door for him. "Thanks for keeping an eye on Maggie."

"Not at all," Edward said. He stepped out into the corridor, his heart beating strangely. "I... hope you had a successful day?"

"Oh—just Edinburgh." Leo smiled, guarded. "We did the museums. I haven't in a while. Goodnight."

The door closed before another word could be said.

With a quiet click, it locked.

_ A bad day?  _

_ Hardly my business. _

Edward hurried along the corridor at speed, relieved to catch the sound of her footsteps on the stairs. He hadn't missed her. 

"Delphine?" he called quietly, reaching for the banister.

She turned in surprise, looking back over one shoulder. She had a bag from an Edinburgh art shop in her hand; the bottoms of her jeans were damp from the rain.

"May I have a few minutes of your time?" Edward asked.

Her eyebrows inched up onto her forehead. She read his face with considerable interest, her eyes ever brighter for their jet black irises. She had a great deal of her grandmother in her, he realised—a shrewdness he found almost unsettling. 

"Sure," she said, with the smallest of smiles. "Here?"

"In private," Edward said, "if we may."

Her interest visibly deepened. With a nod for him to follow, she continued up the staircase. 

"Come for tea, have you?" she remarked. "Knew you would eventually."

"It's... perhaps a little late for any more caffeine in my bloodstream. Thank you for the offer, though."

Delphine chuckled, impish and low. "Different kinda tea, Mr Whitby. It's this way."

 

*

 

Delphine's rooms had a similar layout to Leo's, though seemed a little smaller—then, Edward thought, with the amount of clutter and colour it wasn't a surprise. Her sitting room had been repurposed as a studio. From a network of string and wooden pegs overhead, drying lengths of fabric hung down and formed a lurid rainbow forest, some further embellished with feathers, beads or lengths of braid. Every shelf held stacks of old newspaper, half-empty bottles of dye and pots bubbled over with dried white wax. The worn grey carpet underfoot had become a swamp of stains and speckles. The only space kept clear was a small desk in the corner, where a solitary pack of pencils sat atop a sketchbook. 

The rest was a mess—but it was a joyful mess, Edward thought. Delphine's evident love of colour was rather endearing.

She tossed her jacket and the plastic bag across the couch as they stepped inside, adding them to the pile of miscellaneous things already there.

"Make yourself at home," she said, as she dipped beneath her canopy of paintings. She plugged her phone into charge across the room, frowning down at the screen. "What've you come to ask about?"

It seemed a forthright way to begin the conversation—then, she struck Edward as a forthright person. He was, in this moment, glad of it.

"I hoped I could ask for your help," he said. "It might be rather sensitive. I apologise, if it is. I've no intention of causing offence."

"Mr Whitby, you had me at 'in private'. You don't need to keeping selling this to me." She looked up with amusement from her phone, her dark eyes bright. "It's Leo, right?"

_ Everything is Leo.  _ "There's... something I think might help him, but I'd appreciate your advice before I make the offer."

Her smile grew. "I bet," she said. "You gonna loiter by the door, are you? Get comfy."

"Ah—yes, of course..." Bending almost double to avoid her paintings, Edward took himself to the only obvious seat—at her desk, by her sketchbook. "I get the impression you're close to your cousin?" he began.

Delphine leant against the back of the sofa, watching him with that ever-knowing smile. 

"Thick as thieves," she said. "He doesn't have enough decent people he can rely on." The corner of her mouth twitched. "It's a shame."

Edward had the distinct impression he was being accused of something. "Leo's welfare also matters to me," he said. "It matters a great deal. It seems I'm in a position to advance it, and I want to do everything I can."

Delphine rolled her lip between her teeth. 

"Are you about to ask me if he's gay?" she said.

Edward had suspected this moment might come; he'd prepared for it. He answered without a blink, perfectly calm. "I'm aware that he is," he said. "That isn't why I'm here."

Delphine laughed. Her head dropped back, arms folding over her chest. 

"I  _ knew  _ he'd told you," she tutted, as Edward's pulse quickened against his ribs. "He's so bloody evasive with it. Wouldn't even tell me if you knew. Suppose I can't blame him... I'd be nervous saying it aloud, too... this place.  _ Them." _

She looked down with a sigh, scuffing the heel of her shoe against a spot of wax on the floor.

"What is it you want, then?" she asked. "If you know he's gay, you already know you're screwed. There's not much I can do."

"As it happens," Edward said, willing himself to stay calm, "I believe there is."

She raised an eyebrow. "You do, huh?"

"It's... perhaps a personal request." He waited a moment, watching her expression shift with concern. "I'm painfully aware that I might be about to offend you. If I do, please forgive an ignorant old man. I've only heard about this from other humans. The thought that I might be able to help Leo drives me to ask—but if it's too personal, then I beg you to tell me so I can apologise wholeheartedly and leave at once."

Delphine's eyebrows formed a quizzical S-shape across her forehead, equal parts of fascination and alarm. "Alright..." she said, wary. "Let's hear it."

Edward braced himself. 

"I understand that some of you are born with... marks," he said. "They play a part in choosing a partner."

Whatever Delphine had expected, it wasn't that. She frowned, lifting her chin. 

"Not everybody," she said, after a moment. "You only really believe in it if you've got one... Granny doesn't. Says it's a lot of rot. All her daughters have them, though."

Edward hesitated, fearing the worst. "Did... your father have—?"

Delphine's grin spread from ear-to-ear. 

"Are you kidding?" she said. "They ditched me here to go off round Europe, the second I turned eighteen. They're in Prague right now, posting sucky pictures on Facebook, hugging and making heart hands with each other. Makes me want to puke." 

She indicated her right wrist to him, tapping it.

"Pink stripe," she said. "Both of them. Right there."

Edward's heart tightened. He hesitated to ask, hoping it wasn't too far. "Do you have—?"

"Ha. Yeah," she muttered. "Can't really show it off at parties, though... shame. Makes it a lot easier to find a match, if you can show it." She smiled down at the carpet, picking off another drop of wax with her toe. "Dad met my mum at a Beltane ball. Asked her if she'd maybe want to dance with him... reached out for her hand, and his cuff slid back. Engaged a week later."

_ That easy.  _

_ And still to be in love, even now... _

Before Edward could speak, Delphine made the connection. She looked up from her thoughts in surprise. 

"Wait—hang on," she said. "Are you thinking for  _ Leo?" _

Edward nodded, unsure why it caused her unease. "If your grandmother expects him to carry on the royal line," he said, "she's unlikely to want to hear that he's gay... unless—"

"—you find his soul mate," Delphine mumbled, "and it's a guy." She fell silent for a while, searching his face, thinking something. "Granny still might not care, to be honest. If nobody's brought a uterus along to the party, she won't give two hoots if they're 'soul mates' or not."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Leo's mother might."

Delphine's eyes rounded. She processed this, disarmed. 

"Yeah," she supposed at last. "Yeah, I mean... okay. Alright, I see it. I see the sense." She pressed her teeth into the side of her cheek. "You're assuming Leo's  _ got  _ a soul mate."

"Does he have a mark?" Edward asked.

Delphine's mouth twitched. "He's so shifty about it that I figure he  _ must  _ do. When people don't have one, they usually just shrug and admit it... get on with dating, like a human..."

"He hasn't told you with any certainty, though?"

"No. I don't dare ask. Seems kinda cruel. Even if he's got someone out there, he wouldn't be able to marry the guy... Aunt Elena's got a mark, after all..." Delphine tipped her head forwards, eyeing Edward darkly. "And we all know  _ that  _ story."

Not for the first time, Edward couldn't help but reflect that a lack of matching birthmarks was the least of the problems between the princess royal and her husband. A diligent attempt to find a bridegroom of compatible temperament might have been better than some metaphysical search for a soul mate.

But then, the mistakes of the past were not his responsibility. 

His focus was the future—Leo's future. 

As he became aware of Delphine watching him closely, Edward drew a breath. He straightened up in his chair. "We'll have to assume, then."

"Have you spoken to him about this?" Delphine asked, frowning.

"No. I have a feeling it's likely to be an emotive issue for him. I wanted your take on it first."

"Mhn." Delphine picked a few strays thread off a nearby hanging, rolling them between her fingertips. "Well... I can see the logic, I guess. And it's nice that you'd want him to be happy."

"Do you think he'd appreciate the offer?" Edward asked. "Or is this likely to offend him?"

A quiet snort of laughter escaped her. She shook her head, pulling at her lip. 

"Man, if you knew... okay—okay, look. Here's the thing. I don't know how he'll take it. I've not got a clue. Him and me've never talked about this, and... honestly? I don't think he's ever talked about it with  _ anyone. _ Who is there to talk to? His mum? So... I don't know."

She huffed.

"There," she said, with a shrug. "That's my take. Sorry if it's not helpful. Ask Leo if you want, give him the offer, but... well, he's got other stuff going on in his head. That's all I'm saying."

Edward frowned. "What do you mean, 'other stuff'?"

"Yeahhh. That lies outside the bounds of 'all I'm saying', Mr Whitby. I've just had it for three hours at the pub." She lifted a hand to bite at the edge of one fingernail, eyeing him. "If you want the rest," she said, "pick a good time and ask Leo. And be kind about it, will you?"

Edward's stomach gripped. He couldn't bear the thought of unknowingly worsening some private distress. 

"If I'm likely to upset him," he said, "I'd rather not broach the subject at all."

"You won't upset him, it's just...  _ gods. _ Okay, fine. Here goes. Leo was at human school, right? Leo likes human books, human art—" Delphine flapped vaguely at the sketchbook. "—human stuff. He  _ loves _ all that shit. Honestly, if he had half the chance, Leo would disappear into the human world like a shot. He'd find some nice older guy to shack up with, and they'd breed cats, and buy a caravan, and talk about wallpaper from dawn until dusk. Whatever else humans do all day. I don't know." 

She breathed in, as Edward tried his very hardest not to think.

"Leo doesn't care about soul mates," she concluded, wearily. "Leo doesn't care about the throne. He doesn't care about Cridhe, or being king, or the whole stupid world he's supposed to belong to. Finding his soul mate would be like... like having a really,  _ really _ fancy bathroom in his prison cell..."

She looked down, her thoughts giving way; she shrugged as she let them go.

"But," she supposed, "if he's in prison anyway..."

Edward found himself suddenly numb, his head ringing with thoughts he didn't want. He took a moment to push them aside.

"I appreciate your advice," he said. His mouth spoke for him. "Ultimately, I... I suppose I can only ask Leo, and let him know the option is there... I wish I could offer him better. I wish I could build him an escape tunnel, not a bathroom. But there's only so much I can do."

Delphine's mouth pulled. 

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Yeah, I can see that. You're... well, you're only human." She hesitated, thinking. "You want to see him with someone, then? A fae guy?"

Edward's heart ached in silence.  _ A caravan,  _ he thought.  _ Wallpaper.  _

"Yes," he murmured. "I'd like him to have that chance in life. I hear companionship is a great comfort. I hear it makes trials rather easier to bear."

Delphine rolled something around her mouth. "You're not married, are you?"

Edward frowned at her. "No."

"How come? If I'm allowed to be nosy." She tilted her head. "Just not your thing, or...?"

This seemed rather more than idle curiosity. Watching his words, Edward said, 

"I'm sorry to say the right person never came along."

Delphine smiled at him, flat and friendly. "Cool," she said.

There came a pause.

"Someday, maybe," she added.

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I believe that particular ship has long since sailed," he said. "I'd rather concentrate my efforts on what I can do for your cousin."

"Yeah? Well... that's good of you." Delphine clicked her tongue. "Don't envy you, I'll admit."

Edward almost sighed. "I don't believe anyone does."

"Seems legit in theory. Find Prince Charming's prince charming... but in practice?" She sucked her cheek. "You'll be trying to do what they did for Aunt Elena. Spoiler alert, didn't work out. And—wait, wait—hang on—how're you gonna do this without telling everyone Leo's gay? His soul mate'll be another guy. You can't manage this."

_ How indeed.  _

"In fact," Edward said, quietly gripping the seat of the chair beneath him, "I hoped I could ask a small favour."

"From  _ me?" _ Delphine smiled at him, slanted, her eyes as bright and wicked as black diamonds. "You think  _ I'm _ getting involved in this mess, do you? No thanks, pal. I'm staying up here in the stands where it's safe. The most you're getting from me is some booing and a tomato or two."

"Quite understandable," Edward said, "and I don't blame you in the least. Luckily, all I'd need is a single nod of permission. I'll do the rest. If we're fortunate, I might even win you a bonus prize."

Delphine's laugh lit his heart. "'Permission', huh?" she said. "And what exactly are you asking my permission to do?"

With a deep breath, Edward told her.

She was grinning by the time he finished. 

"You crafty wingless bastard," she said, shaking her head. She folded her arms across her chest with a low chuckle. "You know what? Just for the sheer balls on you... alright. I'm in."

_ Thank god.  _ "Thank you, Delphine. That will be intensely helpful."

"Yeah, well... I want Leo to be happy. Gods know he isn't right now. So fine, do what you need to do. Ask him first though, yeah?"

Edward ignored the quiet clench of his heart. After a long and honest discussion, this small deception came easily. Other permission had to be sought before he spoke to Leo; he didn't wish to present the prince with an escape route, only for it then to be sealed. "Of course," he said. "I'll mention it to him tomorrow."

Delphine smiled to herself, still shaking her head. 

"I hope you manage it," she admitted. "Maybe that's all the idiot needs. Someone who'll love him back."

_ Love him... back?  _

Busy biting the edge of her fingernail, Delphine missed the skip in his expression. 

"Gods know he'll never manage it by himself," she muttered. 

 


	13. Man nor God

Edward thought of her as he ironed his shirt in the half-darkness, chasing every last tiny crease from the fabric. 

_ Reliable,  _ he told himself.  _ Responsible.  _ He smoothed the words in with the pointed nose of the iron.  _ Mr Whitby, trustworthy. Calming and competent. _

He chose blues and greys for his outfit, imagining himself there on the settee in her lavender-scented sitting room, harmonious with her surroundings, smiling pleasantly in the sunlight as he talked her through his progress so far.

_ An excellent influence upon your grandson,  _ he thought.  _ A source of stability within a sea of turbulence. _

Knotting his tie in the mirror, he watched his own expression suffuse with quiet strength. 

_ An invaluable asset to the household,  _ he thought, looping the ice blue silk with care, reaching around to smooth his collar,  _ and professional without a fault. Irreproachable. Irreplaceable. _

This suit was no less armour than if it were forged from plate metal. He'd given the queen reason to doubt his suitability; he'd given himself reason to doubt his suitability. With a few days of hard work, self-control and space, he'd corrected that.

Now he simply had to prove it.

He reached his office to find Maggie waiting with irritation at his door, her tail high and her expression displeased. She harrumphed at the sight of him, unaccustomed to waiting, and slipped inside as soon as he opened it.

By the time he'd made himself a cup of tea, all five kittens had been ferried from their box one-by-one, and restored to their proper place.

"I fear you'll bring me into trouble, your highness," Edward murmured, sitting down at his desk. Maggie chirped from beneath it. With a sigh, he bent over to unlace his brogues, watching her with a half-smile. "At least I'll always have  _ your _ favour, mm?"

Maggie churred.

Edward placed his shoes to one side, pulled his chair carefully into the desk, and settled in to work. As he sipped his cup of tea, he familiarised himself with every detail of the calendar he was about to present. Only the occasional tiny squeak or mewl disturbed the silence. 

After a while, Maggie performed one of her customary shifts. She slumped down against his shins, settling herself cosily between his socked feet. 

Edward smiled to himself and continued typing.

At two minutes to nine, his phone began to ring. He picked it up, tucking it against his shoulder as he closed his laptop. 

"Good morning," he said. "Ready for me?"

"All set," Caroline replied. "Just to warn you, it's a double-bill."

"Oh?"

"Elena's going to be there. She says she hasn't had much chance to speak with you regarding Leo."

Edward bit his cheek. "Mm. My six day weeks and wide-open office door  _ are _ somewhat restrictive."

Caroline chuckled, darkly. "Good luck," she said, and hung up.

 

*

 

The queen and her daughter occupied a single settee.  _ A show of force,  _ Edward noted as he entered the room, undeterred by it, only more determined to reassure them. The princess royal turned her head to watch him come nearer; her back was straight, her hands folded flat in her lap. 

The queen, polishing her reading glasses on her cardigan, did not look up.

"Good morning, ma'am," Edward said, and gave a polite bow, "your highness."

Soundless, Elena nodded. 

The queen held up her glasses, checking them for smudges. "Sit," she said. 

Edward took a seat on the opposite settee, glancing discreetly towards the corner desk as he did so. Caroline clicked the end of her biro, ready to take notes. She flashed him a tiny smile.

"I hope you have good news for us, Mr Whitby," the queen said, as Edward placed the folder he'd brought with him on the coffee table. 

"I believe I do, ma'am. The prince and I seem to have made considerable progress in these last four weeks. He's a very intelligent and very thoughtful young man, and I have every hope for his future."

The queen raised an eyebrow. "Rather  _ too  _ intelligent," she remarked, tartly, "and far too quick to remind us of it."

Edward smiled, passing no comment. 

"Perhaps I should start by taking you through the prince's social schedule," he suggested, opening the folder. "Spring and summer are arranged, of course, with some flexibility remaining into autumn. I've liaised with Caroline to ensure there's—"

"'Arranged'?" Elena looked at Edward as if unsure she'd heard correctly. "What do you mean?"

Edward turned the printed calendar for them both to see. 

"These events are upcoming, your highness," he said, gesturing to a summary list, organised by month with the date and the host listed beside each event. "While April marks the true start of the season, in March the prince will still be attending—"

"Has Leo  _ agreed _ to this?" Elena demanded, looking up from the list to stare at him in alarm.

Edward held her gaze, affecting a look of polite confusion. "Yes, your highness."

_ "All _ of this?" she said.

"Commencing with the ball held by Lord and Lady Allhallows this weekend," he replied. "The prince hoped he and I would be able to spend that night at Chester Square, ma'am—if it's quite alright by you. The Allhallows are unable to accommodate us at short notice." 

The princess turned with visible concern towards her mother, who had shown no sign whatsoever of reaction. 

"He can't possibly have agreed to this," Elena murmured. "He barely leaves his rooms. Even getting him to attend a single luncheon is..."

Edward met the queen's gaze without fear. "I assure you the prince has given his agreement, ma'am."

The queen seemed to take a moment to scan him, reading him, attempting to ascertain the truth of the situation purely from study of his face. 

"This seems a dramatic change of attitude in my grandson," she said, slowly. "Two months ago, he was firmly of the opinion he would never attend another social gathering in his life. I'd be fascinated to hear how you accomplished such a reversal."

Edward had fully expected this query. He answered with perfect comfort, the words rehearsed and easy.

"If it's not too much to say, I believe the prince has benefited from having someone to help him organise his thinking. He and I talk often. He seems content to share his thoughts with me, and in several instances he's allowed me to guide and shape them. He appreciates now the necessity for a young man in his position to be very visible to his community." 

Glancing at Elena, he added,

"It's certainly true that the prince has some minor social anxieties—though he's permitted me insight into those issues, too. I've been able to reassure him and undo certain reservations. As a result, he's happy to resume his role in the social season."

Elena listened to this, lost. Her mouth tightened as she looked back at her mother. "This seems rather too good to be true," she said.

The queen hummed. "So it does."

_ Lord give me strength. Do you wish me to do my duties here or not?  _

"If it's reassuring," Edward said, addressing the queen with patience, "I'll be happy to speak to you next Monday, once the prince and I have returned from the Allhallows' ball. I can update you as to his conduct. Our flights are now booked and Prince Leo is due to see a costume-maker in Edinburgh this afternoon."

The queen's eyebrows lifted. 

"None of this  _ guarantees _ he will be in attendance," she said, "at this weekend's event, or any other. I'll remind you, Mr Whitby, that we had Leo's word he'd attend luncheon with the Allhallows."

Edward's stomach gripped, his face impassive. 

"The prince's lack of attendance in that instance was my error," he said. "That error will not be repeated. Until these social events have passed, and I can confirm to you that your grandson was in attendance and in my company at each one, then obviously I won't be able to provide you with more than promises—but I hope, as promises go, that this one is promising."

The queen said nothing for a moment, eyeing the printed list with the same flattened look of faint suspicion. "Does he intend to marry?" she asked at last, looking up at him.

"Yes, ma'am. He realises he must."

_ "When _ will he marry?"

"Without a bride," Edward said, "furnishing you with a date seems premature."

"I'm sure the boy remembers what all the potential candidates look like," she said, peering at him. "They can't have changed that much over winter, can they? If he's willing to do it, why this petulant delay?"

Edward had hoped to conduct this conversation without the presence of Leo's mother—but it seemed he would have to conduct it all the same. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, kept his focus on the queen, and said,

"The prince  _ will  _ marry, ma'am. He has the thoughtful nature and appreciation of quiet company which mean he will very much suit marriage—but I'm afraid his thoughtful nature imbues him with a certain cautiousness. A preoccupation with making the right choices in life, and avoiding mistakes he might later have cause to regret. It means he balks at the thought of making this decision lightly. He wishes for a partner, not merely a spouse."

The queen said nothing, waiting.

Edward continued, his voice calm. 

"What has perhaps been interpreted as a reluctance to marry," he said, "I would suggest is in fact a strong desire to  _ marry well.  _ That can be achieved, though it takes a little extra time."

"'Time'!" the queen said, appalled. "He's had twenty-five years!"

"For the majority of which," Edward said, inhaling, "he was a child. Your grandson will be happiest if he believes his marriage has been formed according to his wishes, and I do not see that as any manner of flaw. It makes him tenacious and strong-minded. It will serve him well in his life, even if it means he reacts poorly to pressure."

"He is a prince," the queen said, coldly. "He must learn to cope with pressure."

Edward bit the side of his tongue. "Ma'am," he said, "I believe the prince has permitted me greater access to his inner thoughts than he's permitted many others. From what I've seen, in my professional opinion, we now face two choices."

She listened in silence, one eyebrow arched.

"I cannot offer you the fast route or the faster route," he said. "I can offer you the  _ successful _ route—one where Prince Leo is permitted a degree of patience, choice and understanding, even if it takes a little longer than you would ideally wish—or I can offer you a continued stalemate." Wetting his lips, he took a risk. "Your grandson is the proverbial stone block, ma'am. Additional pressure will sink him more firmly into the mud. The way out of this situation is through smaller, gentler pushes, carefully timed, with an acceptance that no swifter solution exists. The prince  _ will  _ marry, your majesty. I will do everything I can to ensure it. But he will not marry tomorrow, and insisting he does will only harden his resolve."

As he finished, there came a silence. Apart from the quick, soft scratches of Caroline's pencil, no sound disturbed the quiet for some time.

Edward waited, his heart thudding.

The queen then huffed; her small mouth curved. 

"I suppose we can't chastise the prince for what we want in the king," she said, thinking. "His grandfather was a stubborn ox, too. Angus's mind couldn't be shifted by man nor god when he'd locked it onto something..."

Edward listened, his expression careful, hoping against hope.

"Very well," the queen sighed at last, and glanced at his open folder. "At least there's progress of  _ some _ sort. Won't be closeted up in his bedroom all summer. Send a copy of that to Caroline, will you?"

Edward nodded, relieved to the bone. He kept his expression clean. "I will, ma'am."

"If dragging the horse to water is all we can do, Mr Whitby, I suppose we'd better keep doing it."

Edward smiled a little. "If the horse is going to drink anywhere, ma'am, he will need to be by the water."

"Mhm. Quite." The queen peered at him over her glasses. "What else are you doing?" she asked. "Other than tending to this bubble of endless patience for him."

"As it happens," Edward said, gathering up his folder, "I do have a suggestion to perhaps speed the process. It's by no means guaranteed, which is why I'm pursuing other avenues as well, but I believe it could be—"

As there came the squeak and clunk of the door handle, they all glanced around in surprise.

The sight of Leo sent a deep, echoing thud through Edward's heart. The prince entered the room calmly, shut the door behind himself, and came across to the couches without particularly looking at anyone.

He sat down beside Edward on the settee, crossed one leg over the other, and brushed a speck of lint off one knee.

"I'm sure one of you meant to invite me to this meeting," he said. "I hope I haven't missed much."

Edward felt his pulse hitch.

"You were not invited," the queen intoned, fixing her grandson with a distinct frown, "as Mr Whitby is here to speak on your behalf."

"Odd," Leo said. "I'm perfectly capable of speaking on my own behalf. If anything, I imagine it's useful to you all to hear these things from the horse's mouth." He looked sideways at Edward, smiling flatly, his eyes cold and hard. "Has anything been said that I should know about?"

"Ah... no, your highness..."  _ What are you planning to do?  _ "I've shown your social calendar to your mother and grandmother. I believe they both approve."

"Good," Leo said, still smiling benignly, refusing to answer the silent concern in Edward's stare. "Delphine's already made travel arrangements for this weekend, but she might spend the night at Chester Square with us. It depends if she wants to stay late at the Allhallows. Is that alright?"

Edward nodded, retrieving his notebook from inside his jacket. He jotted it down, purely for something to occupy his hands, unsure why he found himself suddenly so worried.

"What did I interrupt?" Leo said, turning to his mother and grandmother with the same flat and featureless smile. "Do go on. I'm all ears."

The queen, still frowning, shifted her gaze back to Edward.

"Mr Whitby?" she said.

Edward felt his heart stutter to a stiff halt.

_ Oh—no, I— _

"You said you had some other suggestion," the queen reminded him, crisply. "You were about to elaborate."

_ God help me.  _ There was no alternative; he had to continue. "Ah... yes, ma'am... as I was saying, a minor avenue of possibility, but perhaps worth the time it would take to pursue."

"And what  _ is _ this possibility?"

Edward braced himself in silence, trying to pretend he couldn't feel Leo's gaze fixed upon the side of his head, nor his heart lodged firmly in the back of his mouth.

"I've become aware," he said, "that the traditional approach to royal matches hasn't yet been pursued for the prince. I'd be happy to take on that task. We in fact have two unmarried young people at Cridhe—Leo, and of course Lady Delphine—and I've already had an indication from Delphine that she'd also appreciate the attempt being made."

"'The attempt'?" the queen said, scowling. "The attempt at  _ what, _ man? Spit it out."

Edward attempted to produce the words as if they weren't being torn individually from his throat lining. "To find their matches, ma'am—for their birthmarks."

In the pause that followed, he felt the full crippling weight of every pair of eyes in the room. He glanced between the queen, unimpressed, and the princess royal, shocked and pale; he didn't dare look sideways at Leo. He didn't even dare look at Caroline, watching motionless from her desk in the corner.

"As I say," he added, his heart pounding in the heavy quiet, "I consider this an additional measure rather than a priority... but I believe it's worth exploring. It cannot hurt."

The princess royal, still pale, turned to her son.

"Is that... important to you?" she asked. "A match?" Her expression crumpled a little, trying to understand. "You've asked for this?"

There came another pause.

Swallowing in silence, Edward risked a glance at Leo.

The prince maintained his gaze upon his mother, his expression unreadable. All desire to intrude in an uncomfortable situation had vanished from his face; the smile was long gone.

At last, he murmured,

"Yes. Yes, I asked for this."

_ Oh. God.  _ Edward tried to look as if it wasn't a surprise.

"You want me married, don't you?" Leo added, with a shrug which didn't reach his eyes. He directed it at his grandmother. "Worth trying. Delphine, too. She's of age now. It'll be her turn for the lectures on legacy and responsibility soon, won't it? Might as well get going."

Sensing the hostility in the room begin to rise, Edward intervened with a calming blanket of detail.

"My intention would be to create confidential lists," he said, "compiling details of any marks sent to us by other noble families. I would then show these lists to the prince and to Lady Delphine, and allow them to look through for any matches. Their privacy would be assured and the lists would naturally be destroyed when checked."

"Leo—" Elena's voice shook. She reached across to place a hand upon her son's knee. "L-Leo, it's... it's not guaranteed. That you'll find—"

"I know," Leo replied, stiffly.

"Darling, I just... I wouldn't want you to put all your hopes in—"

"I won't." Leo turned his head to Edward, not looking at him. "Have you asked Delphine about this?"

Edward's heart strained. "Yes, your highness. Of course."

Leo's eyes flashed into his own, sharp. "You've  _ definitely _ sought her permission?" he said.

Edward barely held back the words.  _ I'm sorry. You weren't meant to be here. You were supposed to hear this later, in private, when I knew it was a possibility. When I knew I wouldn't have to snatch it from you.  _ He swallowed it, soundless, well aware he'd turned pale. 

"Delphine has told me this is something she would want," he said, trying to project apology in his gaze alone. He hesitated. "Have your wishes... changed on the subject?"

Leo's jaw tightened. He looked as if he were half-tempted to punch Edward—to lunge for him right now, knock him back over the arm of the settee and put both hands around his neck. He looked as if he wanted to cry.

As Leo opened his mouth, inhaling, Edward braced.

The queen's voice cut across him.

"This will not be pursued," she said. Every head in the room turned, startled. "I do not give my permission for this 'traditional approach', Mr Whitby. You will concentrate your efforts on securing my grandson a bride through other means."

Elena stiffened. Shaking, she started to speak.

She managed half a sound before her mother drowned her out.

"Because I am not willing to endure such a pantomime  _ twice in my life!" _ the queen shouted. Elena shrank back in her seat.  _ "That _ is why! The boy will choose a bride. Mr Whitby will facilitate it.  _ You _ will keep your opinions to yourself,  and if Alice wishes to approve a search for Delphine, then so be it—but Leo will not be putting all of us through the same  _ pitiful  _ display that you did. Not so long as I breathe."

The silence rang.

"What else are you doing?" she snapped at Edward.

Edward sat up straight, his brain scrabbling for the ideas that this morning had seemed so plentiful and easy. "I... I wondered if perhaps for Leo's birthday, a—a modest gathering of some kind could—"

Leo rounded on him at once. 

"I am  _ not _ having a birthday party," he snarled.  _ "No. _ Over my dead body."

"Make the arrangements, Mr Whitby," the queen said. Leo placed both hands across his face. "Invite every noble family and tell them we'd be honoured by their presence. Caroline? Make a note."

"Don't bother inviting me," Leo spat, getting to his feet. "I will not be in attendance."

Edward's heart clenched as he turned to leave. Before he could stop himself, the word leapt out of his mouth. 

"Leo—"

Leo jerked as if he'd been struck. 

He turned back, shouting over his mother's pleas for him to stop. 

"I am a  _ prince!" _ he raged. He ignored his mother as she stood to try and reason with him, begging him. "It means  _ nothing!" _ he shouted at Edward over her shoulder, tears now erupting in his eyes.  _ "Absolutely nothing— _ but it means you address me as 'your highness',  _ is that clear?" _

Horrified, Edward began to stammer an apology.

The queen finally lost her temper.

"Out!" she shouted. "All of you! Every single one of you,  _ out!" _

Leo wrenched himself away from his mother, turned and strode from the room, throwing the door as he went. Its handle left a dent in the wall; chips of plaster fell from the crack.

Edward left his folder in the rush. He raced past the princess royal, gasping an apology to her as she stumbled, swept through the door and took after Leo at speed.

 


	14. Subtleties

Halfway up the second staircase, Edward spotted Leo storming through a door on the landing above.

"Leo!" he called.

The prince ignored him. He slammed the door as he passed through it, gone from sight.

Panting in panic, Edward ran the rest of the stairs. He hurried to the door.

 _"Leo!"_ he gasped, pulling it open—to discover an entirely empty cleaning cupboard.

His brain sparked. He felt it force a restart, trying to connect the shelves of polish and extendable dusters with the sight of the prince striding through this door just seconds ago.

Locked into his shock, he only felt Leo behind him as the hands closed on his shoulders.

Leo seized him, hauled him around, and shoved him backward.

As he staggered, Edward felt his back collide not with shelf-edges and cleaning products but with a rough and solid surface. He gasped, his eyes snapping open onto daylight—trees—thick forest. They were outside, suddenly miles from where they'd been, and a furious Leo had him pinned against a tree, fists wrapped around the lapels of his jacket.

 _"I'm GAY!"_ Leo howled as Edward panted with shock, staring down into his eyes. "I'm gay, you utter moron—I'm gay, I'm homosexual, _I like other men—_ how much more _bloody obvious_ can I make that!?"

Edward's heart and stomach heaved, unsure if he was about to collapse or vomit.

"I know," he gasped. "I-I know you are—"

"Then what _the hell are you doing!?"_ Leo nearly sobbed, white in the face. "What's _wrong_ with you? What are you playing at? _You're ruining me!"_

"Leo—"

"I don't even believe in soul mates!"

"You—y-you don't—"

"No! No, of course I don't! It's bullshit, it's nonsense—I don't _want_ a soul mate—and if I even had one, _he'd be a man,_ you oblivious bloody arsehole! You won't _find him!"_

Edward dragged in a breath, trying to loosen Leo's fists from his lapels.

"After the meeting," he said, inhaling, "when I had the full plan to put to you, I was going to—"

"Oh!" Leo half-shouted, wild with mocking rage. "A _plan!_ Wow! You mean you're not just heaving all this out of your arse as it comes?"

Edward forced himself to swallow, fighting for calm.

"I never intended your grandmother to approve you," he said, his voice straining. "I never _needed_ her to approve you, Leo. The responses to Delphine are the ones which would—"

Leo realised.

His face slackened.

"Male soul marks," he said, staring. He searched Edward's face. "You—y-you purposely—"

Edward felt something in his chest softly crack, all over again. "Yes," he said, broken. "Yes, purposely. Families will send details of their sons, ostensibly for Delphine. One of them will belong to you."

He watched as Leo's eyes filled with tears. No sadness crossed Leo's face, nor grief—just the same hard white anger, his black eyes dimmed with tears.

"Nothing in this world belongs to me," he breathed. His expression tightened. "N-Not even you."

"Leo, I will _always_ support you—"

"I don't want you to _support me,_ I want—" Leo shut down, convulsing. "G-Gods. It's all crap, okay? Nobody believes in soul mates. Nobody with a brain. I don't. Maggie's my soul mate. You'd know that, if you'd asked me."

"I-I'm sorry—"

"You're going to try and get me married, aren't you? All this—'l-leading a horse to water'—all this 'stone block'—"

Edward's stomach roiled; he shut his eyes. "You were listening."

"Of course I was _bloody listening!"_ Leo spat. "It's the only way to keep myself safe around here! And I was right to! You're on their side, aren't you? Y-You're—you've just been—"

Edward spoke before he could stop himself. "Have you considered that you should trust me?"

"Have you considered that _I'm not stupid?"_

_"Leo—"_

"What did I do?" Leo raged, his eyes shining as he shouted Edward down. "What did I do wrong? One minute you're telling me you're there for me, and everything's fine—the next you're—y-you're—"

As he began to sob, Edward reached out.

He drove his fingers through Leo's hair, gripped tight, and pulled him close. He pressed their foreheads together.

"Listen to me," he breathed. Leo began to speak, crying. "Hush now, and listen to me."

Leo began to slump against him, heaving now with silent sobs. Edward pulled him close against one shoulder, holding him, feeling himself breaking into fragments with every breath, _I can't, I can't, I can't stay away. I can't be close to you. But I can't stay away._

"Listen to me," he whispered, as he ran his hand through Leo's hair, his fingers shaking. _"I was lying._ On your behalf—do you understand that? Yes, I told your grandmother that I wish to find your soul mate. Yes, I told her that I wish to see you married. Because I was lying, Leo. After that meeting, I would have returned to your rooms, made you tea, made you comfortable in my armchair and explained to you that due to various absolute falsehoods, your grandmother now trusts me to carry out her wishes. Do you understand?"

Leo convulsed. Edward couldn't tell if it was a nod or a shake.

"Once your grandmother had approved a search for Delphine's soul mate," he said, as Leo shook against his chest, "I would have offered that to you. I would have asked if you wanted it, knowing I could deliver it. I want to see you happy. I won't apologise to you for that. If it involves lying through my teeth to your mother, to your grandmother, to every other relative you have on this earth, then I will do it. If it involves taking the blame for you without a thought, I will do it. If it involves locating someone in this world for you to love, young man, then so help me, _I will do it."_

He felt Leo's hands tighten in his jacket, gripping. Leo's sobs came against his neck without a sound.

"I'm aware you're gay," Edward whispered, closing his eyes to the forest. The world vanished, leaving just the two of them, their arms around each other. "I've been aware for some time. I'm also aware that you're angry, and you feel safe to shout at me. I'm aware you're in pain and it feels safe to hurt me."

Leo's next sob escaped him as sound, gasped against Edward's shoulder. "Y-You can't go cold on me. Please. Please don't go cold. Please don't."

 _I have to._ "L-Leo—"

"Either I-I can trust you, or I can't—"

"Leo, it's—i-it's a case of trusting myself—"

 _"—need_ you, or I can't—"

"—with professionalism—it's the least you deserve—"

"I don't want _professionalism,"_ Leo wept, and Edward would never forget it as long as he lived: "I want a _friend—"_

As he broke into sobs once more, Edward could only hold him. He stroked his fingers through Leo's hair, trying to hush him, his own breath stuttering each sound into fragments. Leo gulped at the air; he gasped it out in tear-stricken huffs against Edward's neck.

Edward let his eyes shut again, turning his face towards the sunlight filtering through canopy.

"I'll bring you through this," he murmured, as Leo cried, "but I need you to trust me."

"I n-need you to be trustable."

"Have I not been?"

"D-Don't go cold. Don't be cold to me."

 _God forgive me._ "I... I wasn't cold, Leo. I didn't intend that."

"You were. Y-You changed." As Leo nuzzled against his jaw, shaking, Edward felt his heart twist itself into a knot. He began to rock Leo gently from side-to-side, trying to soothe the lingering sobs into deeper breaths. The prince shook slowly. "My f-family are a mess."

Edward breathed in. "Yes. Yes, they are. They take my breath, if I'm frank."

"I don't want to b-be a mess—"

"You aren't. You never will be."

"I am," Leo sobbed. "I already am. I _know_ I am. I'm the worst of all of them."

Edward kept his eyes cold, pressing the tip of his nose into Leo's hair. "You are not a mess," he murmured. "You are defensive, after a life of having to defend yourself. And I'm... trying, Leo. Trying to do what is best for you." His throat tightened. "I fear I'm not particularly good at it."

For a minute they simply breathed together, listening. Edward realised his rocking had become a gentle sway.

"Leo?" he said at last.

"Mmh?"

"Where in heaven's name are we?"

Leo shuddered. "Not far from the house," he whispered. "It's—w-we're not really meant to do that, with..."

"My kind?"

"Mnh."

Edward wasn't sure if he should ask. "Why not?"

"Y-You get ambitious ideas, when you know what we can do. And you've already got plenty of ideas." Leo hesitated, holding him a little tighter. "You don't... s-seem like that, though. And I wanted to be alone." His voice dimmed. "It's always easier with you, alone..."

_If I could take you away, now. Some corner of the world. Some place they'd never find you._

_Buy a caravan._

_Talk about wallpaper._

Edward waited to speak until the lump in his throat would allow it.

"May we please attempt a united front on our next encounter with your family?" he asked.

"S-Shit." Leo swallowed around the whimper. "Yes. P-Please, let's try that."

Edward knew he should let Leo go. The time to let Leo go had been and gone, long gone now, and every additional second only let this longing bleed deeper and deeper into his roots, too deep for him ever to reach. _I can't nurture these feelings for you. I can't allow you to nurture feelings for me._

_But I can't let you go._

It hurt. He swallowed thickly, clinging for a moment to the irrational wish they could simply stay here this way—grow roots, grow branches, fuse their bark and join the rest, hidden forever, drink the sunlight in the spring, sleep the winter silent under frost.

He felt his fingers weave tighter into Leo's hair.

_Oh, god—_

_God, what have I done?_

The only hope was surely to find Leo's soul mate—find the fae nobleman who should be standing here in his place, cradling Leo, touching his hair—and then this could end. Leo could let go. He wouldn't need this lesser comfort.

He would be happy—and in that, Edward could find himself peace.

"Leo..." he said, quietly, and drew breath to summon the strength. "If I compile a list for Delphine... may I please show it to you, too?"

Leo was quiet against his shoulder for some time.

"I know you only want to help," he mumbled. "Honestly, I... I don't see the point..."

"No?"

"No. My mum—" Leo hesitated, struggling with something. "I-I mean, she believes in it. It ruined her life. She waited and waited and my grandmother wore her down until when she gave up, she gave up everything. She married my dad without even meeting him. She said it didn't matter."

_Your family have much to answer for._

"This might still be a route to freedom for you," Edward murmured, choosing his words with care. "If your mother believes you've met your soul mate, she might protect the two of you. Whether _you_ believe in it... it almost doesn't matter."

Leo shuddered.

"I... I suppose you're right," he whispered. "She'd... maybe try, at least..."

His arms loosened around Edward's waist.

"Story of my life," he said, as he drew back, and looked up at Edward. Tears still darkened his eyes. "I can have a woman I don't want. I can have a man I didn't choose. Or I can sit upstairs, w-with my books, and my cat, and I can daydream about running away."

Edward searched his face. "Are these frequent daydreams?"

"More frequent than you want to know." Leo pulled in a breath, reaching up to press his sleeve against his eyes. "I'll look at the list," he mumbled, as a final shine of tears welled. He pushed them away. "Maybe there's something in it. Maybe there's someone kind out there. S-Someone like you."

Edward's heart pulled with pain.

"I hope so," he murmured. He gathered his fingers into his palms, forcing the strength to speak. "If there is, Leo... I'll find him for you."

Leo huffed, still dabbing at his eyes. "And d-drag him here?" he said.

"With respect... I don't believe that any man in this world, upon sight of you, would require a great deal of dragging."

The sound Leo made was a broken blend of laugh, sob and tut, gasped against his sleeve. "Stop it," he whispered, tidying himself. "Stop it. I'm a wreck..."

 _What I'd give, to be the one to rebuild you._ "I'm sorry to have mentioned your birthday. Truly sorry."

"It's fine. I don't usually care about—" Leo shivered, glancing away. "—i-it's never _my_ birthday." He sighed, wiping the last of the dampness from his reddened cheeks. "I'm sorry I... I-I'm sorry I get—"

"I understand why you do. I only understand more each time I speak to a member of your family. There's no need to apologise."

"N-No, I... I want to. I'm sorry. It's not your fault I'm angry. It's not your fault I'm upset. I shouldn't take it out on you."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I'd argue I'm by far the best person for you to take it out on," he said.

"Well, I wouldn't. I'd argue it's unfair..." Leo's mouth pulled with discomfort, his gaze dropping to the ground. "F-Frankly I'm sick of hearing myself do it."

"Is there a way you'd prefer to release your anger?" Edward asked. Leo would have to scrub it from his soul somehow; allowing it to fester unchecked all these years had done no good. "Some solution I can offer, when your family are determined to antagonise you?"

Leo thought about it, pulling quietly at his sleeve.

"A walk, maybe." He glanced up at Edward. "Take me somewhere quiet. Let me yell until I cry, then tell me it'll all be okay and bring me back."

Edward gave a gentle nod. "Then that's what we'll do."

He watched the prince shiver. "Do all private secretaries have to put up with this crap?"

_Most are not in love with their employer._

"A private secretary is often considered part of a household," Edward said, inhaling the thought away. "It means we encounter the trials and tensions of daily life, and work among them. I imagine a shoulder to cry on is the least some of us are called upon to provide."

Leo didn't seem overly comforted by it. "I-I'm sorry," he said. "I wish things could be normal here for you. I wish your job was easier. I'm s-sorry it isn't."

 _I'm not._ "May I teach you how I make it easy?"

"Y-Yeah?" Leo said, with a guarded glance. "How?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "I pick my battles."

Leo frowned, unconvinced. He looked away between the trees. "Isn't that called 'letting people have their way'?"

"Thereby distracting them," Edward said, "and lulling them into a false sense of victory... which occupies them wonderfully while I work on more important matters behind the scenes."

Leo smiled, humourless. It faded from his mouth. "How do I learn which battles to pick?"

Edward tried a smile in return. "Delegate the choice to your secretary."

Leo huffed. He looked down at the forest floor between them, the scattered leaves and footprints pressed into the earth.

"What's our next battle, Edward?" he said.

There was only one.

"To get you through the Allhallows' ball in one piece," Edward said, gently. "Everything else can wait."

Leo's cheek pulled. He said nothing, wearied even by the mention of the name.

"I suggest we keep the rest of this week very quiet for you," Edward said. "I'll finalise preparations... then, with a little luck, the whole affair will be as stress-free as possible."

"More than a little luck." Leo bit his lip, shutting off. "S-Shall we walk back? I think the fresh air will help."

 _I think so, too._ "Mm. That seems like a good idea."

They walked for a few minutes between the trees together, settling back into each other's presence. The soft crunch of their footsteps seemed oddly soothing. _As it's meant to be,_ Edward thought, and tried not to punish himself for it—nor to drift further from Leo's side as they walked. Wrenching against the growing bond between them had only tightened its hold to the point of pain. Quiet companionship, with a good measure of self-forgiveness for those thoughts he couldn't help, might prove a healthier state of being.

At least it could do no more harm than he'd already done.

"I'm sorry I screamed at you," Leo mumbled, after a while of conversationless quiet.

Edward reached to hold up an overhanging branch, letting Leo dip beneath it.

"You wanted to tell me at Seacliff Beach," he said.

Leo's brief silence answered. "I've wanted to tell you about a thousand times," he said at last. "Every time I've ever looked at you, I've wanted to tell you."

Edward felt his stomach squeeze.

"It's a comfort," he offered, once he'd recovered his thoughts, "having someone in our life who sees us properly as we are. We can only be certain we exist when someone else reflects us back."

Leo processed this as they walked, thinking about it.

"Do I see you as you are?" he asked.

"In spite of all my best efforts." Edward said. "Do you feel better for telling me?"

"I think so... I-I don't feel worse, at least." Leo looked up at him on some thought, a little guarded with nerves. "Can you please not tell my family, that I know how to do what I did?"

"What you—?"

"To... get us out here quickly, I mean."

"I shan't say a word. Is it not a universal skill?"

"E-Erm... no, not really. My dad's Unseelie Court and they... well, they keep to the old ways. They don't mix with humans. And they tend to have a bit more..." Leo gave an embarrassed shrug. "I don't think Gran would be pleased if she knew how much I got. Just don't tell her."

Edward nodded, torn between fascination and the desire not to intrude. "Does your father know?"

"Gods, no. That'd be worse than Gran knowing."

"I see. Well, your secrets are safe in my hands... as ever." Unable to help himself, Edward asked, "Are there other things you can do?"

"Y-Yeah. A few things."

"May I—?"

"Erm... let's say you can discover as we go. That's how I found it all out. There are probably things I haven't realised I can do yet. It tends to get stronger, as we..." Leo's voice tailed out.

"As you age?" Edward offered.

Leo took a little too long to answer. "As we age." He drew a breath. "What time's our appointment?"

"Two o'clock. It might be best if we leave here before one, to allow for traffic."

Leo hesitated.

"Can we... go now, please?" he asked. "To Edinburgh, I mean. Get lunch or something." He gave Edward a guarded glance. "I-I really don't want to be in the house."

Edward didn't blame him in the least. "Of course," he said. "That's not a problem. If you want to wait outside, I'll check on Maggie and bring our coats."

"Alright. That'd be... th-thank you, Edward."

_'Edward'._

_Edward, again._

He chose his words. "It's alright, Leo. Whatever makes things easier."

 

*

 

They got sandwiches and takeaway coffees from a small deli in the Grassmarket, queuing up alongside tired office workers staring at the walls or checking their phones.

Leo stayed quietly close to Edward's side as they waited. Edward wondered at first if it was nerves—if Leo was uneasy in the vicinity of so many people—but the prince seemed happy as he spoke to the girl at the counter. He even joked with her gently, smiling.

Edward smiled just to see it.

He found himself strangely aware of the patrons all around them in the shop as they waited. They didn't know; he couldn't put it out of his mind. None of them had the slightest clue that they stood in the presence of a prince of the fae. Their eyes were lost in their phones or in the artwork on the walls, and every glance that came Leo's way seemed to move on very swiftly once they registered the presence of Edward. Leo was indistinguishable from any other young person in here, jeans and a grey leather jacket. _We are two among the crowd,_ Edward thought to himself. _Uninteresting._

It was a curious comfort, today.

Leo collected their sandwiches with a last smile and murmured thanks. He turned to Edward, his black eyes soft and gently reaching—it was a glance one would give a friend, not a servant.

"Shall we?" he asked, nervous once more.

Edward nodded, retrieved their coffees, and followed him out into the square.

As they sat on a wall together, eating in careful silence, Edward wondered what onlookers assumed their relationship to be. They looked genetically dissimilar enough for him to be discounted— _hopefully_ —as Leo's father; Leo was not young enough to be a private pupil. That he was somehow under Edward's care probably couldn't be denied. Though Leo barely spoke, he glanced often for Edward's gaze. He sat close, no space between them. He took sugar from Edward gently when offered, and a napkin for around his mouth, and as they settled into watching the passing people together, Edward found himself feeling like a watchful lion—resting, calm, reassuring simply by his presence.

Leo held his cappuccino with both hands, gazing with gentle interest at the humans passing by. He seemed to like friends in groups; he liked young couples and people laughing.

Edward had never felt quite so protective in his life.  The urge to ease an arm around Leo's waist, press a quiet kiss to his hair and ask if he felt alright, was overpowering.

At last, Leo stole another glance at him with slightly rounded eyes.

"Are you okay like this?" the prince asked. "Just sitting?"

Edward smiled with a nod. "Are you?"

"You're not bored?"

"Not in the least." Edward couldn't help it; he had to say. "As it happens, I'm quite engrossed watching you people-watch."

Leo flushed, embarrassed, but did not look away. "Humans are interesting to watch," he protested. "I'm not causing them any harm."

"Of course you aren't. It's charming, that's all."

Distress flickered through Leo's gaze. "Don't take the piss."

"I'm not," Edward said, "I assure you. Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm experiencing precisely the same fondness as when Maggie watches the bird table outside the kitchen."

Leo's expression crumpled. "She just likes the way they move," he said. "She wouldn't hurt them." He glanced back at the square, quietly squeezing his coffee cup in both hands. "It's not my fault humans are watchable."

"What about us do you find so interesting?" Edward asked, intrigued.

Leo took a quiet drink of coffee.

"Your choices," he said. "All that freedom. All that anonymity. What you choose to do with it."

Edward felt his heart tug. "Do you feel deprived of freedom and anonymity?"

He watched Leo inhale. "Yes," the prince said. After a moment, he added, "Not as much when I'm like this. When I'm with you or Delphine, or out on my own..." He shrugged. "It's nice just to buy sandwiches sometimes. I don't know why you all aren't smiling constantly."

Edward thought about it, rolling the idea around his mind.

"A large section of humanity would crave your uniqueness," he said. "Your rarity. The power inherent in your position."

Leo snorted, dropping his gaze to his coffee.

"A large section of humanity might want to know I'm a virgin at twenty-four," he said, taking a drink. "I don't even get to choose my own duvet cover."

Of all the discoveries Edward had prepared himself to make today, Leo's virginity wasn't one of them. He gave no outward sign of the strange leap it caused his stomach, nor the flash of heat across the back of his neck, settling himself quietly in the sight of the people passing by.

"These things can change," he offered, "now that I'm here."

Leo cast him a sideways glance, eyebrows lifting. _"Wow."_

"In that I can source you a duvet cover of your choosing," Edward said, biting the side of his tongue, "and arrange opportunities for you to meet other young people."

Leo seemed to be fighting a smile. "You're aware I hate most other young people, aren't you?"

"People, then. People of whatever nature you would like to meet."

"Most of the people I'd like to meet are cats, Edward."

"Then I shall arrange you cats," Edward said, reaching for his empty coffee cup, "and a new duvet cover. I'll leave you to organise your own virginity. Would you care for another coffee?"

Leo shifted on the wall, glancing up at him shyly as he got to his feet.

"Is that okay?" the prince said. "Staying here a while?"

"Of course," Edward said, and ignored the thought: leaning down, laying a hand on Leo's back, placing a kiss to the soft leather on his shoulder. "We can stay here as long as you wish. I shan't be long."

The girl at the counter seemed to recognise him. Her expression brightened as he appeared; she took his order with a smile.

"Will he want chocolate on the cappuccino?" she asked.

 _My him. The 'he', attached to me._ "Yes, please." Edward's gaze strayed to the counter top rack of cookies beside the till. "And... one of these, please," he added, gesturing.

She glanced around from the coffee machine. "The double chocolate?"

"Thank you."

She smiled. "Chocolate lover, is he?"

_What precisely do you think he is to me? Please tell me. I need to know._

"He's had something of a morning," Edward said.

"Ahh. Well, chocolate always helps." As she added two cookies to a brown paper bag, she dropped him a wink. "On the house."

"Oh—thank you. How kind."

"No worries. Let me get those coffees for you."

 


	15. Among the Crowd

Vibration from Edward's pocket lifted him from his thoughts. He frowned quietly as he shifted on the bench, reaching inside his coat for his phone.

 

 _NEW MESSAGE FROM CAROLINE CARVILLE_ _  
_ _Is Leo with you? Hope all ok... x_

 

Edward replied one-handed as he finished the last of his coffee. _Brought him to Edinburgh ahead of schedule to settle. Seems to be happier. Fall out? X_

"Everything okay?" Leo asked, as he tapped send.

"A reminder for our appointment," Edward replied, closing his messages with a flick. He returned the phone to his pocket. "We should possibly head in that direction soon."

Leo held out a hand for his empty cup. "Here... there's a bin over there."

On the way, as they stopped briefly in a second hand bookshop of Leo's acquaintance, Edward took the opportunity to read Caroline's new message.

 

 _NEW MESSAGE FROM CAROLINE CARVILLE_ _  
_ _Rex now involved :| The usual bunfight over Leo, nothing new but might take a while to blow over... stay out a little longer if you can... x_

 

 _Will do,_ he replied, added a single X, and sent it. Leo certainly seemed in no rush to return home; Edward himself had no intention of returning Leo to a turbulent situation. They could all exhaust themselves quite happily, fighting over their favourite topic, while the prince himself remained safe in Edward's care—and there should be enough in Edinburgh to keep them occupied for the day.

If he managed to smuggle Leo back into Cridhe under cover of darkness, all the better.

With two new books wrapped in brown paper under Leo's arm, they left the shop and walked the last two streets to their appointment.

"Ready?" Leo asked, with a nervous glance back, as he laid a hand upon the door.

Edward offered him a reassuring smile. "If you are."

"I think so..." Leo bit his lip. "Remember that I get to choose for you. You agreed."

"I did," Edward responded, pleasantly, "and I'm sure I'm very safe in your hands."

"It doesn't matter if you don't like it. It's my choice."

 _So few things are._ "Then I look forward to spending the weekend dressed as some manner of hilarious forest animal, your highness."

Leo's eyes glittered. "You'll look nice as a squirrel," he said, turning the handle with a stiff squeak. "Isn't it fun, working for royalty? You're so lucky."

As they entered the shop, a lavender-haired lady with winged spectacles on a beaded chain glanced up from a rack of vintage tea dresses. She took one look at them and smiled, a delighted curve of her fuchsia-painted mouth.

"Six-foot-two, five-foot-eight, masquerade ball with super quick turnaround?" she said.

Edward nodded, returning her smile. "That would be us."

 _"You're_ not a problem, five-foot-eight," she said, with a fond look at Leo, and nudged the rack of dresses back in place. "I've got plenty in your size, my dear. And you're a bonny wee thing, aren't you? Sure we'll find you something..."

She rocked back on her heel to survey Edward, her arms folding, one eyebrow popping up.

"Now _you,"_ she said, with a cluck of her tongue, "and those endless legs you've brought with you... well, I suppose I enjoy a challenge now and then. Any aversion to frock coats?"

Leo answered for him, smiling for the first time that day. "None at all."

 

*

 

"You first, petal," the proprietress said, hooking a selection of four or five outfits onto the rail in the changing cubicle, "seeing as you're the easy one..."

She shepherded Leo inside. He gave Edward a round-eyed look of faint amusement as she swept the curtain shut on him.

"Take your pick of any," she called, "or mix-and-match if you wish... I can do alterations if necessary..."

Her eyes flashed through her glasses as she turned them onto Edward.

"While we're waiting," she said, "let me go and raid the store for you. Shan't be a tick. Holler if I'm needed."

She clicked out of the fitting room, unlocked a private door, and headed off up an unseen flight of stairs.

Smiling to himself in the quiet, Edward settled down on a nearby stool.

"Dare I ask?" he said.

He could hear the shift and shuffle of fabric from behind the curtain; Leo's socked feet were just visible on tiptoe beneath. "She's gone for a lot of dark colours? Not a bad thing, I suppose."

"I told her in my e-mail we were looking for subtle."

"That'll explain it."

 _Dark colours will also look magnificent with your eyes._ "Is there something you think might work?"

"Yes—yes, I think so. Just trying to get it over my head..."

The urge to offer assistance was rather fierce. Edward kept it firmly in his mouth, crossing one leg over the other as he laced his hands around one knee.

After a minute or two, he heard Leo sigh.

"No..." the prince said behind the curtain. "No, that's... no."

"What is it?"

"It's, erm... a sort of pirate shirt, with a wide neck. It's very collarboney. I feel a bit exposed."

Edward turned his eyes to the ceiling, offering a brief and silent prayer for mercy. "Something else, perhaps?"

"There's another shirt in red silk, but... it reminds me a little of my mum's nighties..." There came the quiet _shick_ of hangers pushed along the rail. "Oh—oh, okay. That might work."

Edward listened, examining his cuticles with care as Leo wriggled out of one outfit and into another. There came a few moments of pained silence, then:

"Edward?"

Edward's heart jumped slightly. "Mm?" he said, lifting his eyes to the curtain.

It drew back an inch or two; Leo appeared in the gap, embarrassed.

"Would you give me a hand?" he asked.

 _Sweet lord, please. Torment me no longer._ "Mm, of course." Edward stood up from the stool, approaching the cubicle with the most neutral expression in his arsenal. "How can I be of assistance?"

Leo eased the curtain back halfway, revealing a loose linen undershirt and a blush. Edward staunchly ignored the close-cut black breeches, keeping his eyes safely north of the prince's neck.

"The doublet fastens at the back," Leo said, sliding it from the hanger. It was cap-sleeved dark grey velvet, embroidered with pretty silver thread. "Would you—?"

Edward took it. "Certainly."

Leo turned towards the mirror, facing himself in the glass. With care Edward helped him guide one arm and then the other through the sleeves.

"Comfortable?"

"Mm..." Leo placed a hand on his chest to hold the fabric in place, watching their reflection as Edward attended to the fastenings. "Thank you."

"Not at all." Edward risked a glance into the mirror; they met eyes. "Black gloves and a tricorne to accompany, is it?"

Leo smiled a little. "Would that do?"

"Very well, I think." Each small hook took a moment or two to coax together. They gathered the stiff velvet tight around Leo's waist one-by-one, shaping the garment to the curve of his back. "Boots, too?"

"Mhm... I'm sure she's got some..."

"I'm sure she has," Edward said.

Leo nodded, quietly lowering his gaze.

As he carried on through the fastenings, Edward found himself painfully aware of the intimacy of this moment, dressing Leo with care before a mirror. In another life, in another version of this world, he would have helped Leo this way every morning. He'd have taken pleasure in buttoning Leo into everything from shirts to jeans, hiding away his skin from the world—for his eyes only.

Humour offered itself through the fog as a distraction.

Edward took it, biting down on his smile.

"She might even have some boots with a heel," he murmured, "if you ask nicely."

Leo's grin bloomed at once. It was quickly smothered, leaving behind only the brightness of his eyes. "Shut up," he said, fixing his amused gaze on Edward's reflection. "I'm average height."

 _"With_ the tricorne, perhaps..."

Leo's eyes danced. "You are fired."

"I'm quite certain you don't mean that," Edward said, easing together the final hook. "Who will see over crowds for you?"

"Have you ever heard of treason, Edward?"

"Mhm. Fortunate for me that your family are _deposed_ heads of state." With the hook secured, Edward folded over a thin band of fabric to cover the fastenings. "There... how does that feel?"

"Fine, I think... a little snug, but... they're meant to be like that, aren't they?" Leo bit his lip, tugging at the bottom. "Does it look alright from the back?"

"It does," Edward said.

The prince considered himself in the mirror, uncertain. The doublet wrapped around his slender figure as if it adored him, defining his waist and inviting the beholder's gaze to slide all the way down the long and boyish curve of his back.

"I suppose it's a masquerade ball," he mumbled, exhaling. "It's going to have to be a _little_ showy... otherwise I'll stand out as too drab..."

 _I would gladly wed you this very moment, looking like that._ "It seems a good balance, to my eye," Edward remarked. "Decorative, but not obnoxiously so. Highly suitable."

Leo gave him a small smile in the mirror. "Do you mean it?"

"I do." The distant thump of high heels on wooden stairs caught Edward's attention. He stepped back from the changing cubicle, not wishing the seamstress to suspect any impropriety. "My squirrel costume approacheth."

She entered the room with a sizeable pile of outfits slung over her arm.

"Are you done in there, dear?" she asked, and gave a pleased coo as Leo turned to her. "Lovely. Absolutely _lovely._ I might have a cheeky photo of you when you're all finished, for my portfolio... is that alright?"

Leo flushed, pleased and shy. "A-Alright. Yes, that's fine."

"Lovely." She turned to Edward, presenting the stack of outfits. "Now let's see what we can do for you," she said. "I hoped I'd have this one here in dark green, better for your colouring, but there's only the red in your size..."

Inclining his head, Edward passed her attention with a hand to Leo.

"I've been told the decision is not mine," he said. "My—..."

_Employer? Prince? Companion?_

"—Leo will be in charge of my outfit," he finished, with a gracious smile he hoped would cover his pause. "I place myself in his benevolent hands."

The proprietress's eyes twinkled, delighted.

"In that case," she said, and turned instead to the prince, "what do we think, my Leo? Any particular inclinations?"

Edward attempted to maintain an expression of indifferent dignity as Leo, smiling, browsed the selection on offer. He seemed to take his time over several, then reached the last outfit in the pile and made an immediate decision.

"Definitely this, I think," he said.

The proprietress winked at him. "I think so, too. Some frames are made for tailoring. In you pop," she said to Edward, passing him the hanger with a flourish, "and don't worry if the waistcoat's a wee bit loose. A couple of days and I can fix that."

She nudged him into the cubicle, whisked shut the curtain and audibly turned to Leo.

"Let's you and I go look for masks while he changes, shall we? We'll need you some good boots, too... give you a bit more height..."

As they left the fitting room together, Edward turned his attention to the cost now to pay for his machinations.

He was settled somewhat by the darker palette of colours—navy and muted gold detail, a linen shirt to go beneath—but he wasn't quite convinced he could project the authority required to pull off a royal naval uniform. It was the sort of thing Vice-Admiral Nelson might have worn, with a hat and a medal or ten.

Inhaling, telling himself it would only be for a single evening, Edward eased off his coat.

He had everything on by the time Leo and the seamstress returned. As their voices descended the staircase together, he waited in the cubicle with the curtain open, ready for either approval or amendment.

They entered the room, still chatting, and Leo caught sight of him with a sideways glance.

Their conversation crashed off its rails in an instant. Leo jerked to a stop, his eyes widening; his mouth dropped open a little.

Behind him, the seamstress smirked.

Supposing he'd expected this reaction, Edward exhaled.

"I know it's a little ludicrous," he said. "If you'd like to choose something else, I shall try that."

Leo seemed to need another second to reboot his brain. He closed his mouth, blinking—then in a small voice said, "No. No, it's... it's perfect." He turned to the seamstress. "Do you have boots for him?"

Her eyes glittered as they flicked to Edward. "Size?" she said.

"Eleven."

"Give me a minute," she purred, and handed Leo the cardboard box in her arms. "You stay here with your Edward. Fix his collar for him, will you?"

She clicked away, humming happily to herself.

 _You discussed me._ Edward shut his mouth, quietly horrified that he'd almost said it aloud. He adjusted his brain with a silent breath, and said instead,

"You're certain this isn't going to invite attention?"

Something passed over Leo's expression, too quick to catch.

"No," he said, and he seemed sincere enough. "No, it's—y-you'll blend in. There'll be people wearing small tents and hats they grew all year in a greenhouse. You won't stand out."

He came across the fitting room, still gazing at Edward as if he'd seen something astonishing.

"Here," he said, a little shakily, and reached for the stool. "Can you—so I can reach your—"

Edward sat down, brushing the dress coat beneath him. "It seems a little ostentatious."

"It's not. You need something like this. Military." Leo moved behind him, gently reaching for his collar. "You're tall," he said, and Edward wondered what caused the distinct catch of breath. Leo's hands smoothed the collar around the back of his neck. "You need the structure. It's not too much for you."

"You're certain?"

"I promise. I promise, it's perfect." Leo brushed across his shoulders, removing specks of something. "You look great. I-It really suits you."

Edward's heart gripped. "I missed my calling to the British navy, did I?"

"Eighteenth-century British navy, maybe. They don't dress them like this anymore..." Leo hesitated, studying the gold brocade trim with his fingertips. "S-Shame."

As a suspicion began to arise, Edward picked his words. "I suppose there's a formality to old uniforms. A certain authority."

Leo made no comment. He moved to stand in front of Edward, surveying him from throat to ankle with the same slightly nervous intensity, and took a few seconds to speak.

"This is really happening," he murmured, "isn't it?" His gaze looked for shelter in Edward's. "The ball, I mean. The Allhallows. We're really going."

Edward's throat tightened. "Does that worry you?" he asked.

Uneasy, Leo glanced at Edward's chest, the broad column of buttons and gold trim. "So long as you stay with me."

 _What on earth did someone do to you?_ "I shan't leave your side, Leo."

Leo flushed. "G-Good," he said. He'd begun to fiddle with the cuff of his linen sleeve, quietly turning the button on its thread. "This week's going to go quickly. We'll blink and suddenly be there."

Edward hoped so. The sooner this event passed them by, the better. He'd reach next Monday with a better idea of how to keep Leo safe, and a better idea of what from. He'd be able to show Leo it was safe to relax in his care. He'd be able to prove to every soul in this desperate situation, including himself, that he was capable of handling this.

"The weekend will go quickly too," he murmured. "I promise you. Before we know it, we'll be returning home to your rooms and to Maggie. Everything will feel much more normal."

Leo's mouth pulled, glancing again at Edward's chest.

He huffed in the quiet.

"Cinders," he mumbled, "you shall go to the ball..."

 

*

 

Alterations would take a day or two. Edward paid in advance, tipping generously with the hope it might upgrade their priority in her queue of work. She thanked them both, gave Leo a little wink, and saw them off at the door.

Leo lapsed into quiet as they walked along the street.

"Do we... have to head back now?" he asked.

Edward gave a smile. "As it happens, I've been advised to keep you out a little longer. Nothing is wrong," he added, seeing Leo's immediate flash of concern. "Caroline simply tells me your father has caused some manner of disagreement. It's guaranteed to burn out on its own, and you certainly don't need to be present. What would you like to do for the afternoon?"

Leo flushed, visibly surprised and pleased. "Do you want to see the museum, maybe? It's free. I can show you around."

"I think I'd enjoy that very much. Thank you."

"I mean... there's restaurants, too. Plenty of them. We could even stay out for dinner, if you wanted."

"Mm, why not? I imagine Edinburgh's rather nice at night."

"I-It is. It's really nice."

"In that case, I believe we might have made ourselves a plan."

"Okay. Well—the museum's this way. They've got a café, too, if you'd like another coffee..."

 

*

 

Leo seemed to know the collections as well as if he worked there. He led Edward from gallery to gallery in delight, stopping at almost every case to show him favourite things. On two occasions, through pure excitement, he seemed to reach for Edward's hand to guide him onwards, catching himself only at the very last moment.

As they stood on the rooftop terrace together, gazing across the Edinburgh skyline, he drew a shivery sigh.

"Do you ever feel like... 'nobody in the world knows where I am right now'?" he mumbled.

It wasn't often Edward heard anyone describe that feeling with such joy. "I know where you are," he said, with a half-smile.

"I know, but... I-I mean other people. If they wanted to find us, they'd have to search. They'd never guess we were here... they don't have a clue." Leo shivered again, glancing away towards the castle. "It's nice."

Edward found himself curiously flattered not to count as 'they'.

"If you'd like to come here more often," he said, "and you'd like the company... I can invent appointments for us. Your family needn't know we spend them here."

Leo's eyes seemed to shine, looking up at him. "Do you mean it?"

"Mm, of course I do."

"What if they find out?"

Edward snorted softly. "I'm sure your family are far too interested in their own torturous affairs to question the pen-pushing human. Even when I move mountains to please them, they seem unimpressed. If your mother's going to accuse me quite openly of lying, I might as well lie with aplomb."

Leo smiled, biting his lip.

"I-I'm really glad you're—..." He hesitated, regretting whatever rush of sentiment had been about to come. "It's nice, I mean," he said. "Like this. I'm having a good time."

Edward felt hands curl quietly in his pockets. "Leo, I'm... sorry I..."

"No—no, it's—j-just me. Just seeing things. You were busy, doing your job. And I'm... I-I'm kinda lonely. All the time. I get clingy when I... w-when I have a friend. I start worrying they'll leave." Leo drew a shaky breath, letting it go. "I'm sorry. I need to trust you more. You're right."

Edward's pulse quickened. This would be a perfect moment in which to hold Leo, gently—simply hold him, run a hand through his hair—make promises and keep them.

It was hell to simply stand here, looking.

"I know your family pay me as their employee, but... I consider it far more important that I'm your friend, Leo. I'm sorry I gave you reason to doubt me."

Leo's smile lit his face like patches of sun through clouds.

After a moment he shivered in the breeze, glancing back towards the lift.

"C-Coffee, maybe?" he said. "Then... I guess it's getting late... they'll ask us to leave soon."

_How many times have you stayed as late as you can? How often are you here until you have no choice but to go home?_

"We could always make it a leisurely dinner," Edward said. "Is there somewhere in particular you like?"

Leo's eyes warmed with hope. "There's... somewhere I've always wanted to try."

 

*

 

As they entered the candlelit sixteenth-century building, Edward wondered how many marriage proposals took place within these walls each year. It had to be in the hundreds. The restaurant's frontage on the Royal Mile was rather unassuming; inside, it seemed almost too elegant and beautiful to belong to the world.

They were early enough to snag a table—Mondays, it seemed, quiet enough not to require a reservation—and a waitress led them upstairs with a smile.

The room in which she seated them was tiny, featuring a single table set for two. The walls were dark oak, the cutlery gleaming, and the furnishings almost decadently tasteful.

As the waitress handed him his menu, bright-eyed and fond, Edward wondered if she was anticipating another proposal tonight.

Leo was certainly smiling enough to suggest it.

"Is this okay?" he asked, hopefully, as the waitress left them alone together.

"This is perfectly fine," Edward murmured, smiling, and watched happiness fill Leo's eyes. "Order whatever you wish. I think your family's money can go towards making you happy for once."

Leo's impish laugh veered dangerously close to a giggle. He stifled it, embarrassed, and grinned as he looked over the menu.

"What will you put on your spreadsheet?" he asked, his pupils huge. "'Cheering up Leo'?"

Edward's heart thudded happily. "I'm going to claim it as stationery," he said. "I'm curious to see if they notice."

 

*

 

The waitress brought two spoons with Leo's dessert.

With several glasses of wine in his blood, Leo had finally relaxed enough to say it.

"They think we're a couple..." he whispered, grinning from ear-to-ear as the waitress headed away down the stairs.

Edward kept his smirk in check. Given that they'd now spent several hours engaged in the very deepest of discussion, gazing at each other through candlelight and sharing food without a care, he wasn't sure the poor girl could have concluded anything else.

He reached for his appointed spoon, helping himself to a little of Leo's highland rhubarb with duck egg custard.

"To my advantage," he said, and placed the spoon in his mouth. He winced with delight. "Dear Christ," he mumbled, swallowing. "I suggest you eat the rest of that quickly, or you'll lose it."

"Have some more," Leo said, his eyes bright with enjoyment. He nudged the bowl between them. "Help me with it."

"Mhm. I suppose I was appointed to assist you with _all_ your daily endeavours, however arduous."

"See?" Leo grinned. "Now eat the bloody custard."

 _God forgive me, the things I would do to you._ "I do believe you're a little drunk, young man."

"Someone kept asking the waitress to bring more wine," Leo said.

"Did they?" Edward lifted the spoon to his mouth, licking its underside clean. "Irresponsible of them."

 

*

 

"Why a taxi?" Leo asked, as they waited beneath the awning of a long-closed gift shop, watching the cars sweeping past in the darkness. "Why aren't we calling for Alan?"

"If Alan leaves Cridhe to collect us, your family will know you're returning," Edward said. "I'd rather sneak you in."

"They'll be in bed by now, won't they?"

"With any luck. I'd still prefer not to risk it."

"Okay..." Leo shivered a little, leaning closer. "W-Wish I'd brought a thicker coat," he mumbled. "Kinda cold."

Edward reached down, slipping apart the single button on his own.

He opened it; Leo nestled eagerly inside.

He tucked beneath Edward's chin as if he were made to fit there. His breath came warm and soft against the side of Edward's neck. As Edward watched the road, his coat wrapped tight around Leo, glances from passers-by barely caught his notice.

 _Let them assume,_ he thought. He shifted gently, smoothing back a flick of Leo's hair. _Let it be. Just for once._

 

*

 

The taxi driver recognised the address.

"I'll take you to the gates," he grunted, looking uncomfortable. "No more."

Edward bit his tongue. He was unwilling to make Leo wait another twenty minutes in the cold for another taxi; he supposed it was only a short walk from the gates. They'd also have a better chance of sneaking into the house unnoticed.

"Very well," he said, closing the door behind them. Leo leant against his side, drunken and shy. As the car set off, Edward put an arm around his shoulders.

Leo made a small noise, too quiet and too soft for the driver to hear; he cuddled closer.

Five minutes out of Edinburgh, he was asleep.

 

*

 

Leo barely seemed conscious as they walked together from the gates. Edward kept an arm around him, uncertain how much alcohol and sleepiness were to blame, and how much was simply the overwhelming need to touch. He let them in through the staff entrance, locked the door with care, and aided Leo up the stairs to bed.

"'dward?" Leo mumbled, as Edward guided him into his bedroom. He sat Leo down on the edge of the bed. "Thank you..."

"It's quite alright." Edward brushed his arm, one last time, and let him go. He couldn't stay any longer; the temptation to remain in this room, to help Leo with his jacket, help him beneath the covers, was too much. "I'll feed Maggie and change her water, then go to bed."

"'kay..." Leo yawned, shivering. "'dward?"

"Mm?"

"Promise. Promise you'll look after me." The prince pushed his hands across his eyes. "The ball. Just... stay with me like this. Look after me. Like today."

Edward took a breath; he took a risk.

"What happened with the Allhallows, Leo?" he asked.

Leo huffed.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "Nothing you'll—..." He laid back on his bed, rubbing his eyes. "Just promise me it'll be over quickly."

"Before you know it," Edward said, his voice soft and his pulse raised. "This time next week, we'll have returned. We'll be here, together, and everything will be perfectly ordinary."

Leo said nothing, keeping his hands over his eyes.

Edward realised with a thump of the heart that if he didn't leave now, he never would. He drew himself a breath and moved over to the door, letting his fingertips brush across the light switch. "Good night, Leo. Shall I leave this on?"

"No. No, you can turn it off..." Leo hesitated. "G'night, 'dward. Thank you for... I-I had fun today."

Edward's throat thickened.

"As did I," he said. The light blinked out. "Sweet dreams."

 

*

 

_Monday 12th March._

_I deserve whatever I get._

_I hope it takes a while to get here._

 


	16. Early Flight

_ Tuesday 13th March.  _

_ Quiet and productive. Preparations for the weekend are proceeding well, as are plans for the lavish birthday party I should categorically never have suggested, and also the search to find my employer's soul-promised true love—possibly so that I can unite them forever in marital bliss, possibly so that I can trick the bastard into the nearest cave and seal him in. We shall see.  _

_ I'm still intent on approaching this situation with forgiveness for my own insuppressible feelings. As part of that, after a lifetime without deeming it necessary, I've taken the decision to encrypt my journal. Clearly an outlet of some kind is required. It seems better I allow myself to speak here, freely, than continue to deny all knowledge of a problem and risk causing further pain and distress for Leo.  _

_ After our evening in Edinburgh, he's spent the day rather hungover. The couch, his blanket and a stack of films seem to have eased the worst of it. Delphine visited around six PM. I took the chance to have my evening meal, leaving them to talk. I'll admit I've never longed to leave my ears behind in a room so much. _

_ I took off for the evening at eight—Leo was very tired, and I suspected in need of an early night. As I packed up my things, he strayed from his blanket nest for the first time in two hours and came to hover by the door, on pretense of searching the bookshelf there.  _

_ It seems safe for now to let him hug me, if he initiates it.  _

_ Though I'm sure it would be enough to lose me my position, allowing this small comfort between us eases the potential for much greater harm. I'm aware he suffers his skin hunger very badly—and he embraces me the way I've seen him embrace Delphine. It's an expression of affection for him. I haven't the strength in my soul to attempt to reject it again. _

_ It's hell not to initiate. Something beneath my skin only seems to quieten when some part of my body is in contact with his.  _

_ I don't wish to push this situation forwards, though.  _

_ I won't pull it back. I won't hurt him in that way. But I won't inveigle him into danger. _

 

*

 

_ Wednesday 14th.  _

_ I've composed a draft letter for Delphine and her parents to approve, re: her soul mark, and I've ordered thick-weight paper and decent envelopes. I may have to return to this project next week once we're clear of the Allhallows. There's a lot still to arrange, and—frankly—Leo's lack of enthusiasm for finding his soul mate only equals mine. There's no reason for haste. The masquerade ball is a far more pressing priority. _

_ I'm still uncertain what he's keeping from me, regarding the Allhallows. It crossed my mind to perhaps ask Delphine—then, she was understandably protective of his privacy before. I keep telling myself that if it was anything truly horrifying, he wouldn't allow himself to be cajoled into that scenario again, and certainly not by me. _

_ We took a walk together this afternoon—a short stroll through the woods together after the rain. We discussed his History of Art course and his assignment for this week. I wonder if a prospectus from the Open University might make a fitting reward for enduring this weekend. He certainly has the intelligence and the enthusiasm to handle an undergraduate degree; I think it would give him a much-needed source of self-pride and purpose. I'll request one now, before I forget. _

_ Maggie has taken to grooming my socks along with the kittens.  _

_ I haven't the heart to correct her. _

 

*

 

_ Thursday 15th March. _

_ Amendments to our costumes have been finished. Alan transported Leo and Delphine to Edinburgh this afternoon to collect them, along with our masks, boots, and Leo's hat. I've printed Caroline our full itinerary and all the travel details, along with various contact lists, back-up rotas and other necessary information in case any staffing issue or other unforeseen eventuality should arise while I'm gone. _

_ I've been informed that I'm taking both Sunday and Monday off, to make up for the long days I've worked this week. Sunday will be partially a travelling day, returning to Edinburgh from London. "You can travel in jeans," he's told me. I'm strangely touched that he believes I own a pair of jeans. _

_ The Open University have shipped a prospectus out to me. It should be here in four to five working days. The young lady on the phone told me that as a member of the fae, Leo would be entitled to a bursary while he studies. She wasn't sure if being a member of a royal family would negate that entitlement or not, but I imagine Maggie will appreciate whatever new catnip toys are purchased with it. I'm already drafting my inevitable impassioned speech in defence of Leo's undergraduate study. "Because he has a brain," stretched out for eight paragraphs so far. "Because he deserves the opportunity to use it." _

_ Somehow it is now nearly Friday, which in itself is nearly Saturday.  _

_ Quite certain that the last time I breathed it was Monday. _

 

*

 

_ Friday 16th March.  _

_ Eleven PM. Alan has gone ahead to London with the car, the luggage and our costumes. Caroline has all of her instructions for taking care of Maggie and the little ones in our absence. Leo seems to be in reasonable spirits, though became rather quiet as the afternoon drew on. I persuaded him to retire to bed at ten. He'll need his sleep. We have four car journeys, a flight and a masquerade ball to surmount tomorrow.  _

_ And somehow I shall transform mice into horses, lizards into footmen and a pumpkin into a coach. _

_ We have a strategically early flight in the morning. We'll be slipping out of the house during breakfast, to avoid any manner of last-minute lecture. I'm sure certain people have all manner of advice to bestow upon Leo, and frankly the last thing he needs in this world is advice. I've arranged for Alan to collect us from Heathrow, then take us to Chester Square where we'll have lunch. We'll use the afternoon to settle Leo into the best frame of mind that we can, then set out for Surrey at seven. _

_ I can't quite shake the sensation I've overlooked something—left something unaccounted for. Then, I suppose it's quite true. Large social gatherings mean I can only ever control a fraction of the situation. The rest must always be dealt with in real time. Turning a logical eye upon my task lists, my schedules and my itinerary, I've accounted for all those factors that I can. _

_ It's now a case of simply waiting—and watching to see who approaches, bearing the sharpened glass slipper.  _

 

*

 

Edward woke on Saturday morning with the conviction he had a thousand things to do, and not a clue what any of them were. 

It seemed pointless to lie here and ruminate. He would encounter the trials of the day whether he rehearsed them or not; action would jog his mind into motion. He showered and shaved, then dressed himself in more casual corduroy trousers and a tank-top and shirt to travel in. He had a light breakfast in the staff kitchen, cereal and brown toast, and arrived in Leo's rooms at half past seven.

The bedroom door and his office both stood ajar; it seemed Leo was already up. 

Edward found him in the office, kneeling down behind the desk with Maggie and the kittens.

"Good morning," he said, stepping through the door with a smile. "How did you sleep?"

Leo huffed out of sight. When he spoke, he sounded groggy. "Not brilliant, if I'm honest..."

Edward hesitated. "Oh?"

"W-Weird dreams," Leo said. "Don't worry about it. Have you had something to eat?"

"Ah—yes, some cereal. Are you quite alright?"

Leo shuffled backward into view, rubbing a hand across his eyes. He seemed rather pale; there was a redness about his eyes which Edward didn't like.

"I'll be fine we're out of here," the prince mumbled. "Fine when I've had a shower... do you mind if I get something to eat at the airport?"

"Not at all," Edward said. "We'll have plenty of time." As Leo got unsteadily to his feet, Edward reached out a concerned hand to support him. The prince took it. "I'll make a flask of coffee for the car journey, shall I?"

Leo gave him a faint smile, pulling his dressing gown nervously around his body. "That'd be great. Thanks." 

"Is there anything else I can do?"

"No—no, just... be patient with me today, maybe? I'm feeling a little uneasy."

Edward's heart tightened, moved to be confided in. There was a time Leo might not have told him. He was glad to discover they were past that. 

"Entirely understandable," he said. "If it helps, we'll have most of the day to ourselves, either travelling or relaxing... and it'll be a full day away from your family."

Leo huffed again, amused against his will. 

"They're always good days," he mumbled. He glanced towards the open door. "I'd better go and shower... what time are we leaving?"

"In essence, as soon as you're ready. If we arrive at the airport early, I'm sure we can have breakfast and people-watch."

Leo tried a smile. "I'd like that," he said. He looked eminently huggable today, Edward thought. He seemed both younger and older than he truly was, guarded and at the same time wide open. "Did  _ you _ sleep alright?" Leo asked.

"Perfectly," Edward murmured. He returned Leo's smile, as gently as he could. "Enough for the both of us. Let me go and fill a flask."

 

*

 

It was a quiet, peaceful and uneventful flight. Leo read in comfortable silence at Edward's side, pausing only to shift now and then in his seat—or to accept another travel sweet from Edward's pocket. He seemed to have settled since they left Cridhe, reassured to see the house and his family shrinking into the distance. Even reaching the main road had eased the tension in his shoulders.

The more distance they gained, the more Edward began to wonder if this weekend might even be a blessing. Time away from Cridhe never failed to cheer Leo. The most chaotic influences on the his life could no longer interfere in events—and whatever happened, Leo would be solely in Edward's hands. It meant he would be safe.

They spent the last half an hour together on the crossword in Edward's copy of The Times.

"'Diligent'," Leo said, resting his head briefly on Edward's shoulder. He tapped the starting square. "Twenty across."

Edward's forehead creased, rereading the clue. After a moment, he got it. "For heaven's sake..." he murmured, writing it in. 

He felt Leo smile. "Good job I'm here."

They landed without a hiccup, disembarked together, passed through security and finally headed for the exit doors of the terminal. 

"The car should be in the short stay car park," Edward said over the echoing noise of a boarding announcement. "I asked Alan to wait somewhere visible for us. If we're lucky, we shan't have to search for him..." He reached out a hand for Leo's carry-on satchel. "Here. Let me."

"You've got your laptop to carry," Leo said.

"You're heir to the throne," Edward protested, causing a passing family to double-take, "and I'm currently on duty. You needn't carry your own luggage."

"Okay... I-I mean, if you're certain..."

"Of course I am." As Edward took Leo's bag gently from his hand, he noted the look of regathering nerves. Leo didn't quite meet his eyes. "Leo?"

Leo brought forth a smile at once. 

"Sorry," he said, with an awkward glance. "I—I think I'm a little travel sick."

He'd seemed fine on the plane. 

"Perhaps some proper food when we reach Chester Square," Edward suggested, his pulse picking up. "That breakfast sandwich you had looked rather greasy."

"S-Sure."

"Or a nap? You can always sleep this afternoon before we leave. Recover some rest."

"Yeah. Okay. That sounds fine." Leo hesitated, glancing across the airport. "Erm—do you mind if I just use the bathroom first?"

 

*

 

As they reached the M4, Edward stole a sideways glance at Leo. He was fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper, thinning a patch of the soft blue wool between finger and thumb.

Quietly, Edward reached over. 

He laid his hand on the prince's forearm, calling Leo's eyes without a sound into his.

Leo looked back at him in silence, nervous. He seemed suddenly young and out of place, pale in the back of the royal Audi. Edward had a feeling he'd opted for jeans and sneakers today as a quiet show of rebellion, not wishing to look like the kind of young man whose family owned property in Chester Square. He hadn't wanted to travel as a prince. In the sky, they'd been ordinary passengers; they were now anything but ordinary.

He offered Leo a smile, willing him gently not to worry.  _ Before you know it,  _ he promised with his eyes.  _ All over. _

Leo nodded, uneasily. He drew a breath, dropping his gaze back to his sleeve. 

Edward squeezed his arm, then quietly let him go.

 

*

 

Leo's discomfort only worsened as they reached central London. The sight of tall glass-fronted businesses and endless Georgian porticos seemed to fall over him like dust, dampening him, fading every last hint of brightness in his eyes. He watched the streets go by with a rounded and uneasy gaze, his cheeks now void of all colour, a fretted hole worn through the sleeve of his jumper. 

As they reached Belgravia, he drew a deep and shaking breath.

"Are you quite alright?" Edward murmured, watching him.

Leo hauled himself up out of his thoughts. "Mm. Thank you."

Edward didn't believe it for a second. "We'll be leaving tomorrow," he said. "This is a very temporary arrangement."

Leo shifted, looking down into his lap. The uncomfortable pause lingered. 

"What time do we have to leave tonight?" he asked.

"It should take us a little over an hour to get there," Edward said, his heart beating hard. "If we leave by seven at the latest, we'll reach Chiddingfold just past eight. It means the other guests will have had time to arrive and settle. We can make a less-noticed entrance."

Leo nodded, numbly. "What are you doing until then?"

"Whatever you wish," Edward said. "I'll be making lunch, if you wanted to join me. I have a book I've been meaning to finish, if you'd like to use my laptop to work on your essay. Otherwise you can relax and try to enjoy the afternoon."

Leo pulled at the sleeve of his jumper, knotting it between his fingers. "I'm not sure if I can concentrate today. Thank you. I'm just..."

"I understand."

"E-Erm—listen, would you hate me if I took off for a while?"

Edward glanced across the backseat. "'Took off'?"

"On my own, I mean. Went for a walk." Leo hesitated, sudden colour rising in his cheeks. "I k-kind of want to be alone for a while. I'm sorry. It's not you, it's just... it's this place. I really don't like the house. I really don't like London."

"Oh." Edward offered a smile at once, even as a prickle of worry flittered across the back of his neck. "No, not at all. Whatever you wish."

Leo nodded, forcing a smile. "Thanks," he mumbled. "I'll be safe. Just... Hyde Park or something. Sit under a tree."

"Can I ask you to keep your mobile phone with you?" Edward said.

"S-Sure." Leo fished it from his back pocket, biting his lip as he adjusted the volume. "There. I'll hear it."

"Thank you." As the car pulled to a stop outside one of the gleaming cream-painted townhouses, Edward watched the prince unclip his seatbelt. His fingers fumbled a little on the catch. "Leo?"

"Mm?" Leo said, not looking at him.

Edward's stomach tightened. "What time will you return?"

"Six, maybe?" Leo glanced at him, one hand on the door. "Is that—?"

Edward forced himself to ignore the creeping incline of his pulse, the suspicion now spreading like a migraine over the back of his skull. There was nothing he could do to prevent such a course of events, if Leo took it. He could only hope against hope he was being paranoid without reason. 

"Six seems fine," he said, looking into Leo's eyes.  _ I'm sure you wouldn't. I'm certain.  _ "That should give us time to change. Do you need any money?"

Leo flushed. 

"I-I've got enough in my bag, I think. Should be okay." He opened the door. "See you later," he said, slipped out of the car, and hurried away along Chester Square as if he didn't want to be seen here. 

Edward watched, unbreathing, as Leo turned the corner of the road and disappeared from view. He collected his laptop from the boot, trying to ignore the thoughts now screaming silently through his mind, and retrieved the keys to the house from inside his coat.

He let himself into the property alone, closing the door behind him with a hollow clunk.

 

*

 

The house was almost unnervingly immaculate—as beautifully appointed and well-kept as the finest five star hotel. Even for only the two of them, staying a single night, fresh flowers had been placed in most of the living areas: silky cream lilies and fluffy clouds of white orchids in black stone vases, matching the muted monochromatic decor throughout the property. The oak panelling, turrets and oil paintings of Cridhe were a distant memory here. This was a modern London home, styled to perfection for an agonisingly wealthy family. 

It wasn't possible to tell which of the five exquisite master bedrooms supposedly belonged to Leo. All five had been stripped bare of personal touches; they were magnificent and they were empty. 

The silence of the place began to unnerve Edward within minutes. He wandered from one painfully beautiful interior to another, reminded uncomfortably of old urban legends of luxury cruise-liners, turning up adrift in the ocean with no sign of either passengers or crew, nor any clue as to what fate had befallen them.

The discovery of a gym, a professional chef's kitchen, a massage treatment room and staff quarters in the basement came as no surprise at all. 

_ I should have gone with you,  _ Edward thought, as he nervously set up his laptop on the island counter in the kitchen. He didn't dare use one of the sumptuous lounges. They were quite clearly rooms for the family; it didn't seem his place.  _ I should have accompanied you, stayed with you. I shouldn't have let you—  _

He had a feeling Leo would have resisted his company.

The thought made him more and more uneasy. 

It took two cups of darjeeling to settle his mind enough to focus and work. He got on with Leo's finances for May, calculating travel costs of the events he would be attending, inputting them all into spreadsheets.

_ Apparently attending. _

_ Oh, Leo. _

_ Please don't.  _

Edward let the rattle of his keyboard keep the minutes passing by and his thoughts moving, skimming across the surface of his mind. There was no reason to worry, he told himself. He had Leo's promise; that outweighed his instincts.

It had to. 

He couldn't bear any other possibility.

 


	17. Confide

Five o'clock found Edward chopping vegetables alone in the cavernous steel kitchen, no longer able to work. He was painfully aware of the recipe he'd instinctively chosen. This was a simple pasta dish he'd first learned at Cambridge; in recent weeks, he'd made it on several occasions for Leo. He now found himself adding ingredients that he knew Leo liked, in some warped and illogical hope it might prompt the prince to appear, summoned from the ether by rigatoni and aubergines.

There was, of course, a full hour before Leo needed to return.

There was also a very good case to be made for where this worry of abandonment had its source—this house, deafeningly empty of life, and how very small and ineffective it made Edward seem within it. It was no wonder he felt distinctly helpless in this moment.

He reminded himself of it several times as he continued to cook, coaxing his thoughts over and over to settle. The comfortable motion of chopping and stirring began to help. It felt like progress, somehow.  _ This is nearly ready to eat. Leo will be here soon.  _ The two thoughts seemed to go together. 

He texted Leo as the bowl steamed in front of him on the table, watching the words appear on the screen as he typed them.  _ How are you? I have a portion of pasta for you if you're hungry.  _

He kept an eye on the message window as he ate, willing the small icon to change;  _ Message Sent  _ to  _ Message Seen. _

He checked again once he'd finished washing up. 

The message remained unviewed. 

Edward dried everything he'd used, cleaned the counter tops until they gleamed, packed his laptop and checked his phone to find it was now quarter to six.

He walked to the front door, just to ensure that he'd left it unlocked—that Leo hadn't attempted to return, and found himself barred from the house. It wasn't locked; a heavy grey rain was falling across the square. 

_ How long has it been raining? _

It couldn't even be heard within the house—the windows too insulated, the roof too many floors above.  

Edward returned to the kitchen, zipped his laptop into his suitcase and took the whole thing down to the servant quarters, telling himself it would save time when they returned from the Allhallows this evening. He laid his pyjamas out; he put his toothbrush by the sink.

As six o'clock approached, he began to have thoughts he couldn't bear to have. 

His heart raced, suddenly back in Scotland with the queen and the princess royal. If they were informed at the first opportunity that Leo had made a particular decision, the responsibility for it would be accurately assigned to Leo—and Edward's position might yet stand some flimsy chance of survival.

But then, if such a cold and ugly state of things was revealed, would losing the position seem all that horrifying?

_ Please. Please consider what they will think. Who they will blame. Please.  _

_ Please do not do this to me. _

As the clock struck six, Edward found himself back in the gleaming marble entrance hall, staring at the front door, pleading with it silently to open.

_ If you make my job impossible, they will not let me keep it. _

_ Please. Please don't have planned this. Please don't let me wonder how long you have planned this. Please don't let me think all the things I am now thinking. _

He tried Leo's phone. There was no answer.

_ God help me, if you're hurt—  _

_ They'd have contacted me—someone would have contacted me—  _

At sixteen minutes past six, almost nauseous, numb to the bone and with a heart no longer beating, Edward removed his mobile from his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts for Caroline. His thumb shook on the screen.  _ I can't make this decision. I need your clarity, I need your distance, I need your sense—  _

He hit dial, his wrist trembling. He pressed the phone to his ear.

As it began to ring, the silence of the entrance hall echoed with a sudden metallic clunk.

The front door swung open, admitting Leo from the rain. 

Edward's heart caved. 

He exhaled in a rush, cut the call at once and dropped his phone onto the stairs, so relieved he felt sick.

"For heaven's sake—" he gasped, hurrying forward. "I—I-I began to think—"

Leo's face buried into his collarbones. His arms wrapped around Edward's waist without a word; he shook. He didn't make a sound as Edward flattened his hair for him, breathing hard, stroking the rain from the soft black tufts.

_ God almighty. _

Edward's throat gripped around the words. He forced it open so he could speak.

"If you can only bear an hour," he said, and turned Leo's face up to look at him, his fingers trembling on the prince's jaw, "then that is enough. If you can only bear thirty minutes, that is enough. Ten minutes. Two. I do not care."

Guilt ached in Leo's gaze. He searched Edward's face, a breath away from tears. "I-I'm sorry—I'm r-really sorry—" 

Edward's heart strained.

"I know you are," he said, fighting not to cry himself as he held Leo's face in his hands. "I know you are frightened. I know what you considered, and I know why you considered it, and I am intensely grateful you did not do it."

Leo's eyes flooded. "I'm  _ sorry—" _

"It doesn't matter. You're here."

"You—y-you'd understand, if you—"

"What would I understand?"

"Keep Rosalie Allhallows away from me," Leo begged. His breath cut. "S-Shit—please. Please, just—I-I don't want her near me—"

Edward's heart clenched, knocking itself out of rhythm. "'Rosalie'?"

"Y-Yes—"

"She shan't lay a finger on you." Edward stared into Leo's eyes, soft and fierce at once, watching the tears roll onto his cheeks. "Whoever she is, point her out to me as soon as we arrive. If she causes you even a whisper of distress, we will leave. I will take you away at once."

Leo's expression tightened. "D-Don't leave me on my own—"

Edward felt something in his chest attempt to punch its way through his ribs. 

"Do you believe I could be capable of that?" he asked, staring at Leo, more worried and more relieved in this single moment than he'd ever been in his life. He wanted to vomit. "It isn't possible. When I make promises to you, by god,  _ I mean them." _

He pushed the hair back from Leo's forehead, watching the prince's tears renew. 

"I've cooked aubergine pasta," he said, brushing them away with his thumbs. "Food will settle you."

"I—I-I'm sorry I... t-they would have blamed you, they'd have s-said it was your—I-I couldn't—"

"Hush, now. Thoughts are not actions. You are here, and the only anger I'm experiencing is aimed firmly towards myself—for pushing you into something so ambitious so quickly."

"I-It's not your fault—shit, y-you didn't—" 

"It is nobody's fault," Edward said, reached over to the front door, and pushed it shut. "Come with me," he murmured, wrapping an arm around Leo's shoulders, "and we'll get some food into you. You were entirely right. This place is unbearable. If I'd known, I'd have booked us a hotel."

 

*

 

He waited until Leo had emptied his bowl of pasta, nervously scraping every tiny smudge of sauce from the bottom of the dish. Leo's tremors seemed to ease as he ate. Edward sat by his side, ostensibly answering e-mails while actually keeping watch on him, listening to the quality of the silence around them change. 

Mouthful by mouthful, he felt Leo's company start to reach once more for his own.

As the prince quietly pushed his bowl aside, murmuring his nervous thanks, Edward decided the time had come. He put his phone away in his pocket, turned towards Leo, and gently took hold of his gaze.

"We are alone here," he said. He gave Leo a few moments to lower his guard once more, his eyes darkening with immediate worry. "We're now the better part of four hundred miles away from every member of your family. I'm about to ask you something, and I appreciate that the answer is likely very personal. If you can bring yourself to confide in me... please know that I will support you without question. Without pause. I will do everything in my power to look after you. There is nothing you will tell me which could ever, ever change that."

Leo said nothing, watching him in mute and panicked concern.

Edward placed a hand upon his forearm. 

"What happened," he asked, "at the end of October, that has made you so afraid of the Allhallows?"

The silence lasted for almost a minute. He watched Leo try several times to draw the words up into his mouth, struggling to give them shape. Tears appeared; Leo reached for his hand to grip.

"It involves Rosalie," Edward murmured, and received a nod. He placed his other hand atop Leo's, wrapping it tight in both his own. "She's one of the daughters of Lord and Lady Allhallows. She was with them when they visited Cridhe for lunch, and you were very keen to avoid her."

Leo nodded again, staring at their hands. "E-Eldest—" 

"Their eldest daughter," Edward said. He offered a few more quiet conclusions. "Your family consider her a strong candidate to marry you."

Leo's eyes squeezed shut. He didn't move; he didn't speak.

"In October," Edward went on, gently, "she behaved in a way that distressed you. You're concerned she might attempt something similar in future. You're reluctant for anyone to know what she did."

Leo's eyes stayed shut. He nodded, now rubbing his thumb in a shaking circle around Edward's palm.

Edward let him settle for a moment, repeating the gentle circle on the back of Leo's hand—slowing it, gentling it—waiting until Leo's, too, had eased.

"I'd like you to take a breath," he murmured, "and tell me what happened. I want to understand."

Leo swallowed. He opened his eyes, looking away across the kitchen as he silently breathed in.

As he reached the peak of his breath, he said,

"Locked me in a room upstairs. She was—s-she tried—" His grip tightened, retrieving his breath. "She, erm—I don't know. I-It wasn't a big deal. She let me out eventually. I shouldn't be this upset."

As the blood in Edward's veins crystallised quietly into ice, he kept his thumb stirring the same quiet circle against Leo's palm.

"What precisely happened?" he asked.

"S-She... she said she wanted me to identify a painting," Leo said. "In her parents' bedroom. I was so stupid. I should have seen what she was doing. S-She's, erm... her family are powerful. They're really powerful. I've known her since we were kids s-so—so I didn't think anything of it. I went upstairs with her. When we got there, she locked the door." 

He looked down at their hands, gripping Edward tighter as he spoke.

"It's honestly n-not—i-it sounds like nothing. It  _ was _ nothing. She tried to kiss me and get my clothes off. I felt like I couldn't just shove her, couldn't kick at her—I-I mean, she's a woman—if I hurt her, then I'd be... a-and I told her no. I told her to back off. She just ignored me. Kept... grabbing at me. Telling me to relax."

_ Oh—oh, Jesus— _

"T-Then—s-shit, this is pathetic—I got upset. I started crying a bit. She backed off. I must have embarrassed her enough to finally stop. I got out of the room and I... I-I just went home. I got a taxi and a train and spent all my savings. Mum was furious with me for leaving. She said it was really rude. I should have stayed, I should've said goodbye to L-Lord and Lady—"

Edward pushed back his chair.

He gathered Leo into his arms, raked a hand into his hair, and neither moved nor spoke for several minutes. Leo made no sound. He stayed completely still and quiet, breathing nervously against Edward's neck. The stiffness in his shoulders began to soften.

At last, when his throat muscles had unlocked enough to speak, Edward pressed his cheek to Leo's temple.

"What that young woman did," he said, fighting to keep his voice steady, "is punishable by law."

"N-No—no, it—wasn't that dramatic. It was over in two minutes."

"If Delphine had been locked in a room against her will," Edward said, "by someone who attempted to remove her clothing, and continued when she asked them to stop, would you tell her not to be dramatic?"

Leo didn't respond. He shook in silence, unmoving.

Edward closed his eyes; he drew a deep breath of Leo's scent. "The fact you're a prince rather than a princess makes no difference at all. This young woman is monstrous and I'm desperately sorry for what she did to you."

"L-Look, she's—she's not—'monstrous'. And if you called her that, nobody would believe you. Most people would be glad, if she t-tried to—"

"Whether other people would invite her advances or not is irrelevant. You didn't invite them and she ignored that. It makes her a vile, cruel individual."

"You're talking like she beat me up or something," Leo gasped, shaking in his arms. "She didn't—s-she didn't actually  _ hurt _ me—"

"She's frightened you to the point you've abandoned your social life," Edward said, his heart burning with it. "It's led to friction with your family. It's left you lonely, Leo. I'm distraught that I didn't speak to you about this sooner."

Leo audibly swallowed. "W-Why?" he said. "I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone. I-It's not your fault."

_ God almighty.  _

"Nor is it yours," Edward breathed. He felt Leo go still against his chest, listening. "If I'd known, I'd  _ never _ have arranged this. I'd never even have considered it."

Leo was silent for a moment. 

"Y-You can't—you can't do anything about this. Please. Don't tell anyone. Don't ask me to tell anyone. I'm not going to. I don't want you to persuade me." 

Edward's heart ached. He forced himself to listen, to let go of the instinctive anger and the need to punish, and to hear Leo's wishes. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

"Nobody would listen to me. Everyone would laugh. It would make things worse, not better. I don't want that. Y-You'll understand, when you see her."

"I don't intend to see her," Edward said, bile rising into his throat at the very thought. He ran his fingers over the back of Leo's head, calming himself with the softness of his hair. "I won't be placing you at any social event she plans to attend. She's a repulsive creature, as far as I'm concerned, and I will move heaven and earth to ensure she never crosses your path."

Leo hesitated. He shifted, pulling back enough to look up at Edward, his eyes pink with uncried tears. 

"We came all this way," he whispered.

Edward's expression didn't shift one iota. "And we will go all the way back," he said. He brushed a tuft of Leo's hair off his forehead. "I want to ask your permission to do something. Please don't dismiss it out of hand."

"Gods—w-what?"

"I'd like your permission to indicate to your mother, and to your grandmother, that one of the Allhallows girls committed an astonishing indiscretion in front of you. I will not give details," Edward added, seeing Leo's fear rise once more. "I'll simply suggest that the young lady in question is well aware of what she did, that it makes her shockingly unfit to share your company, and that you're unwilling to associate with the family any longer."

Leo's expression tightened. 

"I'm not allowed to do that," he whispered. "They're the Allhallows. They're powerful."

"God save my sanity," Edward breathed. He watched Leo's eyes flash with distress. Before he could stop himself, his mouth started to speak. "You are the prince," he said, overwhelmed.  _ "You are power. _ Your entire community are willing to leap to their feet at your order, on the hope it might one day win their daughter a crown. Leo, if you announced that you despise the colour blue, it would never be worn by another fae girl in your lifetime. If you announced that you intend to wed only the most accomplished salsa dancer in the land, young ladies would be performing the mambo around you within a matter of minutes."

Leo's mouth twisted. He fought the smile with all his might, crying in silence even as it spread across his face.

"And if you wished to make it known," Edward added, his heart heaving, "that the Allhallows bitch is a wicked little harlot who might learn herself some manners before she makes advances on another gentleman, they will believe you...  _ because they have no choice, Leo. _ You are going to be  _ king.  _ They will all do precisely what you want, without question, without a pause, or you will find somebody else who will."

"G-Gods—" Leo reached up to press his sleeves to his eyes, trembling with his tearful laughter. "Call her a wicked little harlot again. Please."

"With pleasure," Edward breathed. "Give me time and I'll ensure she's never called anything else." He reached into his pocket for his phone, unlocking it to discover with a wince his three missed calls from Caroline. "Ah—yes, I'll... but Alan first. I'll tell him to retire for the evening."

As he opened his contacts, Leo's hand appeared upon his own. It stalled his fingers.

He glanced up to find Leo looking at him, his expression pale and quiet.

"Don't," Leo said. "Don't call him." He paused, reading Edward's eyes. "I... I k-kinda want to try being king. You make it sound almost good."

Edward felt something warm and bright and proud sear through his veins as Leo smiled.

"Will you help?" Leo asked. "Teach me, I mean... remind me... if we—i-if we go to the damn ball, and I give it a try—"

Edward's throat squeezed. 

"It would be my honour," he said. "I'll support you however I can, in everything I can. Now and always, Leo."

"I-I want her to know she was out of line." Leo's jaw tightened. "I want her to regret it. I want her family to ask her what she did to piss me off. I want her to know I'm angry, and to know I'm—know I'm not  _ prey." _

_ I would bring you her organs on a platter, if I could. I would bring you her head on a spike. _

"She will regret it," Edward said, "with every fragment of her being, Leo. I promise you. Before this night is out, the rest of your community will be reminded that your decisions are your own—and that if they want your favour, they'd better be prepared to respect your bloody wishes."

Leo's face seemed to glow. 

"S-Should we go get changed?" he asked. "We'll be late, but..."

"We will. And it works very well in our favour."

Leo tried a nervous smile. "Walk in late with my nose in the air?"

"An excellent start," Edward said. "I'll instruct you from there. First, costumes."

 

*

 

As they reached the outskirts of London, Leo glanced across the darkened backseat of the car. His feathered tricorne hat and mask laid between them; his hair had finally dried, soft and tufty from the rain.

"Thank you," he said, quietly. "I mean it... thank you."

This morning, Edward had mistakenly believed he could not possibly love Leo more. He'd since discovered otherwise. 

"Thank you for confiding in me," he murmured, watching Leo smile with relief. "I understand it wasn't easy. I'm deeply, deeply proud that you did."

Leo huffed, flushing slightly. "I've... carried it around for a while, if I'm honest. I couldn't cope with the thought of people laughing. Asking if I'm insane."

_ Mm. _

"This young lady has taken advantage of the fact that men are presumed to welcome all sexual advances," Edward said, coolly. "They tend to be treated with derision in cases where that isn't the case. Sadly, she failed to consider that women who make sexual advances too freely are vulnerable to a creative variety of accusations... nor does she realise that I am disinclined to play fair."

Leo's flush deepened, regarding Edward with a wide-eyed mixture of adoration and anxiety. "I... k-kinda love your evil side," he confessed. "Is that alright?"

"I like to think of it as my resourceful side."

"Thank the gods it's on  _ my _ side."

"It always will be," Edward said, crossing one leg over the other. He watched Leo's smile grow stronger. "Tonight will change things for you," he said. "I promise. Your grandmother will hear that you were socialising as she wishes. The Allhallows will discover that favour is earned, not seized. And you will return to Cridhe in no doubt whatsoever that your decisions are the single most important factor in my universe."

 


	18. The Game

As they came in sight of Pentridge House, Edward felt Leo shrink very slightly in his seat.

"The moment you request to leave," he murmured, watching Leo with care, "we will leave."

Leo didn't respond, gazing through the windshield at the illuminated manor on the hillside. It certainly had architectural pedigree: ashlar masonry and Tudor windows, the sort of sprawling family estate often proudly referred to as a pile. It was as much a physical representation of power as Cridhe. 

Edward suspected it might in fact be slightly larger.

"You have only two objectives this evening," he said, gentling his voice. "One is to be seen here. The other is to be as frosty towards Rosalie Allhallows as you wish. The rest doesn't matter."

Leo inhaled slowly. "What about her family?" he asked, not looking at Edward. "How should I be towards them?"

"Polite but generally unsmiling. An overall coolness would serve well."

"Is it not a bit weird that I've travelled four hundred miles to their party just to be lukewarm at them?"

"To the contrary," Edward said, "their party is the ideal place to be lukewarm at them. I can't imagine a better opportunity."

Leo gave him a pained sideways glance, thoroughly unconvinced. "So the plan is... I walk in, ignore everyone for a while, and then we leave?"

"I'd recommend you be seen speaking happily to a few other guests," Edward said, "if you can. It would provide a contrast with your treatment of the Allhallows."

"Right.  _ Any _ other guests?"

"Mm. I believe Delphine is in attendance, isn't she?"

"Yes, she said to text her when we arrive. Does she count?"

"She does," Edward said, smiling, "as do I. The Allhallows should see you happy but markedly not with them."

"Okay..." Leo drew another deep breath, straightening in his seat as they passed through a pair of gigantic wrought iron gates. "They might be waiting somewhere to greet me. They usually do,when my family are coming."

"Then we've kept them waiting now for..." Edward pulled back the sleeve of his frock coat, checking his watch. "Well over an hour. Excellent."

"How do I be discreetly rude to someone while greeting them?" Leo asked.

Edward had spent enough of his life around the upper classes to know the tactics as if it were an art form. It would be a privilege and a pleasure to see Leo utilise them.

"Decline to speak first," he said. "Make them greet you, then pause for a long moment before speaking. Do not smile. Do not offer a hand or any other physical contact—make them request it if they want it, and pull away first. Ask how they are as you look elsewhere. Do not register a word of the response. Immediately ask someone else another question and go about your business."

Leo shivered. "Do they actually teach you this stuff at Cambridge?"

"Not by design. It's rather more a side-effect."

"Alright." Leo licked his lips, pale. "I-I can do this."

"Yes, you can," Edward said, as the car pulled smoothly to a halt before the wide-open front doors of the house. "Remember that this building and everyone in it belong to you. Your attention alone is a rare prize. Those who offend you commit a grievous error."

Leo flushed, lifting his chin. "And my secretary will remember their faces."

Edward's heart burned. "Every detail."

Alan got the door for them. As he opened it and stood back, a breath of cool night air filled the car; it found its way at once into Edward's veins. With one gloved hand on his tricorne, and an expression of intent, Leo stepped out.

Edward followed him, readying for battle.

The sound of distant chamber music laced a haunting quality through the darkness. It felt almost otherworldly approaching the open doors together, steeled for what awaited them inside. Leo led the way, his boot buckles sounding every step; Edward kept pace at his side, stony-faced and upright, so fiercely and silently proud that it hurt.

They arrived into a faux medieval entrance hall, theatrically torchlit to make the vaulted ceiling and the carvings in the stonework loom. A grand Gothic archway led on into the rest of the house; within its frame, a couple stood waiting. 

Their costumes matched. They wore the same shades of black and red velvet, with red satin detailing that must have taken a matter of months. Above a winged black mask, her silvering blonde hair had been elegantly coiled atop her head and fixed into place with a single deep red rose. Enormous cabochon garnets gleamed at her throat. The gentleman beside her stood at least as tall as Edward, his blonde hair slicked back and his moustache neatly trimmed; his mask was silver, embellished with a single rose to match hers.

As they laid eyes on Leo, and recognised him there in the torchlight, they lowered themselves at once. 

The gentleman straightened as Leo reached them, offering out a hand.

"Your highness," he murmured. His jet black eyes within a pale and blonde-haired face were mildly unsettling, though the warmth within them seemed genuine. "How good of you to come."

Leo held the gentleman's hand briefly, his back straight and his chin high. 

"Lord Allhallows," he said—polite, crisp, not a flicker of emotion, and another visceral surge of pride seared through Edward's stomach. "Thank you for inviting me."

"The gratitude is all ours, your highness," Lady Allhallows said, and glowed appreciatively as Leo performed a quiet kiss of her hand.  _ Good boy,  _ Edward thought, delighted.  _ Show them the problem is the daughter, not the mother.  _ "We were so pleased to hear you'd be joining us this evening. It's wonderful to see you."

As Leo straightened up, he inclined his head to the side. His gaze skipped without feeling into Edward's. 

"May I introduce my private secretary?" he said. "This is Edward Whitby. He's come along to start putting names to faces."

Edward stepped forward; he took Lord Allhallows's offered hand.

"Lord Allhallows," he said as they shook, noting the cordial smile. He didn't return it. "A pleasure."

"Mr Whitby. My wife Cordelia, Lady Allhallows—"

Edward bent, duly kissing her hand. "My lady," he said. "What a beautiful home. Thank you very much for inviting me."

Lord Allhallows's smile grew. 

"Not at all, Mr Whitby," he said. Lady Allhallows seemed quite happy to let him answer on her behalf, beaming at his side with gracious obedience. "All settled into your new position, I trust?"

"Very well, my lord, thank you. An honour to work closely with the prince."

Leo cast him a sideways glance, a touch of amusement brightening his gaze.

"Mr Whitby has earned his salary ten times over now," he said, still watching Edward. Edward smiled; Leo fondly returned it. "He's been indispensable. I'm not sure how I ever functioned without him."

"High praise indeed," Lord Allhallows noted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I hope we see much more of each other in the years to come, Mr Whitby. You're very welcome here." 

The soft click of heeled footsteps behind him turned his head. 

"Ahh..." he said. Edward's pulse kicked, spotting the young woman approaching through the great stone archway. "Just in time. Rosalie, my dear—come and meet Mr Whitby."

She made an astonishing sight—uncomfortably so, near ethereal to look upon, no older than Leo and with an almost mythical sense of presence. Her willowy height, her youthful glow and her mother's inherited beauty had been augmented by a gown that formed a living waterfall of blood red silk roses, slashed to the thigh for a fleeting glimpse of the elegant legs beneath. Her black velvet mask covered as little of her face as possible; its construction served merely to keep her veil of white-blonde hair from encroaching across her features. Her lips had been painted the same decadent, bloodied shade of red as her dress. Beneath her mask, a pair of doe-like, soft black eyes swept across them all with kittenish curiosity. She came towards them, smiling.

If Edward had ever hated someone so keenly on first sight, he no longer remembered. All knowledge of their face had now vaporised, burned up in the rush of breathless loathing that Rosalie Allhallows evoked. She was as lovely as the first flush of summer; she'd locked Leo in a room until he'd wept with distress.

She arrived amongst them with a soft sweep of vanilla perfume, settling dutifully at her father's side. Lord Allhallows put an arm around her waist, proud. Her gaze finally flickered onto Edward. 

She pressed her teeth into the pad of her deep red lower lip, waiting.

Edward bowed, just as low as he had for her mother. His heart roiled with silent rage as he kissed her slim, pretty fingers.

"Lady Rosalie," he said, rising, and looked into her eyes. 

She glittered at him, pleased. 

Her father received a coy sideways glance for details. "Mr Whitby now serves as private secretary to the prince," he explained to her; her expression warmed with understanding. "Rosalie is my heir, Mr Whitby. I imagine her brother and her sisters are around here somewhere."

"Dancing," Rosalie said, with fondness and amusement, "when last I checked." She turned her gaze at last onto Leo. Every vein and artery in Edward's body filled with fire. "Your highness," she said, softly. "I hardly recognised you."

There came a sharp, glacial silence.

"Rosalie," Leo said, his voice clipped. Edward's heart heaved against his ribs. As Leo's gaze flickered over Lord Allhallows's shoulder, watching a group of guests cross the hallway beyond, he added coldly, "How are you?"

Only her eyes, and the eyes of her parents, betrayed even the slightest hint of concern. Their smiles remained immaculate.

"Very well, thank you," she said. "I hadn't realised you'd be joining us tonight."

Leo inclined his head to Edward. "I'm thirsty after that drive, aren't you?"

Rosalie's mother recovered first. 

"Darling," she crooned, re-hitching her smile in an instant, "why not show the prince and Mr Whitby through to the ballroom? A glass of champagne might be just the ticket."

"Of course," Rosalie said, smiling. "I'd be gl—"

"Don't trouble yourself," Leo cut across her. "I haven't forgotten the way since October. My memory's rather good." There came an almost panicked silence, all three Allhallows searching wildly for response; coolly, Leo inclined his head to Edward. "Red or white?" he said, as he swept past the Allhallows without another word. "I think I'm in the mood for white."

Edward paused only to flash his very cleanest smile at their startled expressions.

"Do excuse me," he murmured.

He then strode calmly after Leo, enjoying the ringing silence left behind in his wake.

Once safely out of earshot, as they passed along a statue-lined corridor towards the elegant strains of violins, he stepped close to Leo's side. It took every iota of his self-restraint not to turn Leo, guide him up against the nearest wall and kiss him until he whimpered.

"Excellent," he breathed. "Magnificently done. Utterly  _ magnificent." _

Leo made a strangled huff in the back of his throat. "I think I'm about to vomit."

"A drink will help," Edward promised, as the music grew loud and they neared another Gothic archway, through which the chatter and laughter of many guests could be heard. "You need a few minutes in a corner to settle, and a small measure of alcohol in your system. You've done wonderfully so far. I could not possibly be prouder."

Just before they reached the arch, Leo's feet seemed to stall. He stopped in the corridor, swallowing, breathing in.

"I'm—t-this is—I-I think I left my courage back in London."

"You brought it," Edward said. "You brought every ounce of it. All it requires now is rehydration." He glanced towards the archway, suspecting this was best done swiftly. "Stay close behind me and walk as if we've been in and out several times."

Leo paled behind his mask. "A-Alright—" His hand moved strangely by his side, lifting as if to reach for Edward's. He faltered and shifted the motion back towards his sleeve, fiddling with it. "If it's too much—"

"If it's too much," Edward said, "then we leave." He ran his hand down Leo's arm. "Within ten minutes, we can be inside a car," he promised. "Within an hour and a half, we can be sitting on a couch, watching  _ Maurice _ together with hot chocolate and debating the various merits of Rupert Graves. I'll tell you in advance there are many."

Leo flushed with a surge of emotion, relief and guilt and joy all at once. He looked into Edward's eyes. "I th-think I prefer James Wilby..."

_ Of course you do.  _ Edward's mouth smiled against his will. "You've watched it already."

"A-About ten times." Leo glanced towards the arch, breathing in hard. "Will this ever get any easier?"

"No," Edward replied, and watched Leo's eyes return to his face in surprise. He held them. "But you will get stronger."

Leo swallowed. "I-I don't feel strong."

"A year from now, you will. I will make you strong—and it starts tonight. The first step is to walk into a room and get a glass into your hand." He placed his fingers on the prince's elbow. "Come with me," he murmured, leading Leo towards the arch. "We'll keep our heads down, mm? Make it seem as if we're nothing at all to look at."

Descending the staircase, focused on Leo one step behind, Edward could steal only glances at the sight laid out before them. It seemed a wildly inappropriate way to behold this moment of his life. The ballroom was larger than any he'd ever seen, illuminated from above by winking crystalline stars within a vaulted roof painted to resemble the night sky. From below, a thousand sourceless lights nestled in the living greenery which grew on every wall. An enormous oak tree, several centuries old, seemed to have erupted its way through the dancefloor quite by accident. Antler candelabras hung low from its branches; beneath them, couples danced in the candlelight. Their costumes glittered and sparkled and swirled, more like butterflies or birds than humans—beautiful without effort, breathtaking even to glimpse. Silver trays bearing canapes, champagne flutes and candles floated through the crowd, seemingly with nothing to carry them.

Edward saw it all only through the corner of his eye. 

As half of his brain reeled with shock, desperate to stand and simply gape open-mouthed, the rest of his awareness wrapped tight around Leo. 

He looked back as they descended the stairs together, offering a smile of reassurance.

"I believe I've spotted a drinks table, over to the right."  _ You will be fine. Perfectly fine.  _ "Red or white? We never decided."

Leo seemed to be concentrating on retaining the contents of his stomach. 

"Just tape a bottle of white into my hand," he said, stiffly.

If people had noticed them, Edward didn't see it. At this stage in the gathering, most of the crowd were watching the dancers. He stole another glance at the tree, his heart aching as he spotted the tiny golden lights of nocturnal insects floating through its canopy.

"I'm not sure I've ever seen anything like this, you know. It's... rather marvellous."

Leo huffed behind him. "The Allhallows should be royalty. They do it far better than us."

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Edward glanced back to ensure he had Leo at his side. They slipped into the crowd together, winding their way towards the drinks table. 

"By the way," Edward said, leaning low to Leo's ear, "I now see what you meant."

"Mm?"

"That our costumes shan't stand out."

Leo gave him a weak smile from beneath the brim of his tricorne, his eyes bright in the shadow it cast. "Do you feel underdressed?"

"Not quite," Edward said. "Unobtrusive, certainly..." They seemed to be receiving very few glances at all; the majority of them found their focus on Edward.  _ The advantages of height,  _ he thought, as he guided Leo over to the drinks table. "White, you said?"

With a glass of wine in Leo's hand, they found an unobserved ivy-covered alcove in which to stand, set back from the festivities so that Leo could drink the thing in peace. Edward said very little until he'd finished the first glass, then handed him the one he'd been holding.

"Don't let me get drunk," Leo mumbled, shivering as he swallowed a big mouthful, "for gods' sake. The last thing we need."

"Frankly, Leo, there's a chance we'll make it through this evening without anyone even realising you're here..." Edward cast his eye discreetly across the nearby guests, receiving hardly a glance in response. "We may need to steal something, as proof to your grandmother we attended at all."

Leo spluttered a little into his glass, shooting Edward a look of both outrage and delight. He dabbed at his mouth with his sleeve. "What like?"

"Something with a family crest, ideally. I'm sure they're the type."

"They are," Leo muttered. "I'm amazed they don't have it printed on their loo paper."

"Perhaps a tupperware box of canapes?"

"Are you sincerely suggesting we take my granny home a plastic box of mini quiches? She'll clip my ear for cheek."

"I'm afraid we might have to make you more visible at some point," Edward said, adding at once, under the weight of Leo's stare, "when and if you feel comfortable to do so. Until then, we will stand here and observe."

Quietened, Leo turned his gaze across the crowd. He took another deep drink of his wine. 

"Weird seeing her again," he mumbled. Edward felt his stomach pull. "She's... good at the game. Isn't she? 

"A game where the rules are yours," Edward said. He angled his body, shielding Leo from any glances. "It's hardly even a game, Leo. She wants to be queen;  _ you _ choose the queen. She will not be queen. The game is now over for Rosalie Allhallows."

Leo breathed in, closing his eyes briefly. "I love how you put things."

"Good," Edward murmured. "Listen to me a little longer, then." Leo's eyes lifted into his; he kept hold of them, watching Leo drink. "If your community gossips on anywhere near the same scale as humanity, we can blight her character with a very small handful of seeds. It will teach the others that a direct approach to you is hideously unwise—and it will teach Rosalie that if she's going to utilise her sex to her advantage, she should be prepared to deal with the disadvantages. And it will teach you that you are the most powerful person in this room."

Leo's expression tightened. "Again, I... I  _ really _ don't feel it."

_ "Feeling _ powerful and  _ being _ powerful are completely separate matters. The first is a self-indulgent waste of time."

"I'm pretty sure there's at least a tenuous connection between the two."

"There isn't, Leo. Rosalie Allhallows  _ feels _ powerful. You have just shown her what it is to  _ be  _ powerful—and when we've finished with her, the little witch will see that feelings of power have all the tenability of monopoly money."

"But if I'm here trying to  _ be _ powerful," Leo said, drawing a breath, "and I don't  _ feel _ powerful—"

Edward interrupted; the words left his mouth before he could stop them. "Better to believe one's armour is cardboard," he said, "and discover it is actually steel, than to believe one wears steel and discover cardboard."

Leo said nothing for several seconds, staring at Edward with a pale and quiet wonder.

"You're going to change my life," he said at last, "aren't you?"

Edward didn't speak. He merely nodded, his heart aflame in silence, unable to believe his own audacity.

Leo wet his lips. "I knew it the second I saw you," he said. "You... you turned to look at me, and I just..." He drew a shaking breath. "I-It felt like I'd be alright, somehow. Like I'd be okay in the end."

_ And happy, ever after.  _

_ God so help me.  _

Edward let the thought settle. He gently tapped the base of Leo's wine glass. 

"Drink, please," he murmured. "The night is young, and so are you."

 


	19. Waltz

On his third glass of wine, Leo came to stand a little closer.

"By the stairs," he remarked, hiding his glance with a quiet sip. "Talking to the girl in the blue dress. Got him?"

Edward stole a discreet look. 

"Blonde?" he checked, turning back to Leo.

"Mm." Leo gave him a weary look. "Zachary Allhallows," he explained. "Rosalie's brother."

"Ah..." Edward took a moment to choose his words. "Not a friend of yours, I take it?"

"Gods, no. I can't stand him." Leo sipped his wine for a second, lowering his gaze into the glass. "He should be prince, in all honesty. He knows how to do it. He knows how to... shmooze and circulate and creep."

"Who is the young lady he's talking to?" Edward asked, regarding her over Leo's shoulder.

"Sara. One of the Langley sisters." Correctly predicting Edward's next question, he added, with an awkward glance, "It has been suggested I could marry her."

This answer seemed to apply to most of the young ladies in the room, from what Edward had discovered. "Has she shown interest in the prospect?" he asked.

"We've danced a few times," Leo said. "Honestly though, I... I kinda struggle to tell if people are genuinely interested in me. These things are always just performances." He winced, drinking. "My mum comes to them sometimes—she'll walk in, holding my dad's arm and beaming—it makes me want to throw myself down the stairs. This is seriously the arena in which my family expects me to find a meaningful lifelong relationship."

Edward smiled in sympathy. "They're not ideal conditions for authenticity," he admitted. He glanced over his shoulder at the crowd, enjoying the swirling of the dancers for a moment. "Is there anyone here with whom you feel a genuine connection? Any sort of friend, or...?"

Leo said nothing at first, uncomfortable. He took a sip and found the words. 

"I'm not going to lie to you." He gave Edward a regretful glance. "Delphine's here somewhere," he supposed. "And some of my other cousins are nice. They don't expect anything from me."

"But otherwise?"

"I'm sorry. I know I don't make this easy for you."

"I never asked you to make things easy," Edward reminded him, smiling. Leo returned it with a nervous sip of wine. "This summer, while we're in London for the season... would it help if I tried to organise smaller and rather quieter gatherings? It might feel a little more authentic to you, if you can socialise with your peers offstage."

Leo's mouth pulled. He didn't seem wholly convinced—but he nodded, all the same. 

"Worth a try," he murmured. He hesitated, rubbing his wine glass with his thumb. "It'll buy us some time, at least."

_ Time to find him for you. Time to appeal to your mother.  _ "It will," Edward said. "And it will make the summer easier, if nothing else."

Leo smiled, weakly, as if he doubted such a thing could be possible. 

As he took a sip of wine, his attention flashed to movement over Edward's shoulder—and before Edward could say another word, he realised they'd been joined in their alcove. 

The young women who'd appeared were twins, somewhere in the latter half of their twenties, both tall and rather striking with long and loose red hair. They wore dark gold gowns adorned with wildflowers and leaves; both clutched glasses of rosé. 

"I  _ knew _ it was you..." one sighed, the moment she laid eyes on Leo, and folded him at once into a loose hug. As Leo smiled against her shoulder, returning the embrace, Edward's heart relaxed somewhat. "We saw you coming down the stairs, and I thought... gosh, don't I  _ know _ that walk?"

"I didn't believe her," her twin added, flatly, directing the remark at Edward. "I said she was insane even for thinking it. There's no way on this planet he'd be here." As her twin released Leo, she stepped forward to hug him too. "You know people have been asking us if you're dreadfully ill or something?"

Leo pulled a face, returning her hug. "Don't go spreading the word I'm here, will you?" he said. "I'm trying to keep a low profile."

The first young woman sighed. 

"Oh, Leo... what are you like?" she said, smoothing back her hair where his hat had lightly ruffled it. "Only  _ you _ could come to a ball hoping to keep a low profile..."

Released from the hug, Leo turned to Edward.

"My cousins," he said, "through my aunt Lucille—" Both young ladies glanced up from their wine glasses, waving breezily at Edward as they drank. "—Catherine and Violet." 

One indicated the violets scattered liberally across the bodice of her dress. 

"You're welcome," she sighed. "Started doing it a few years ago. So much easier."

"Catherine's the Rackheath heir," Leo explained, apparently enjoying Edward's bemused expression.

"By twelve minutes," Violet added, sipping her wine.

Her sister's eyes rolled. "Well, it's hardly my fault you're idle, is it?" she said. "If you'd really wanted it, you'd have tried harder..."

"Guys, this is Edward," Leo said. Each lifted a single eyebrow at him, sipping their wine with the greatest of interest. "Edward Whitby—he's my new private secretary."

_ "Oh," _ they said as one, shared a knowing smile, then elected Violet to speak. "Right.  _ Secretary,"  _ she said. "Got it."

"We did wonder," Catherine added, eyeing Edward with amusement. She dipped her head, peering through the holes in his mask. "Oh my  _ gosh... _ and you're human, aren't you? Look how blue they are..."

It took Edward a moment to realise she meant his eyes. He smiled, a little embarrassed. 

"I'm afraid so," he said. "I hope it shan't count against me."

She waved a hand, still surveying him with delight. "That's adorable," she said. "And no, nobody will even notice here... it's so dark. You could pass for fae. Have long have you been working for Leo?" 

Edward wasn't sure whether to thank her for the compliment or not. "A little over a month now."

Her nose crinkled at him, pleased. 

"How nice," she said. "I  _ love _ humans. Leo went to school with humans—didn't you, Leo?—I saw some of his old school photos when he left... and I never thought I'd say this, but... well, some of those teachers... you know, I almost  _ would?" _

Violet laughed aloud; her sister smiled impishly against the edge of her wine glass. Edward returned them both a genial smile, suspecting he was wisest to contribute very little to this conversation. 

Beside him, Leo was suddenly busy drinking.

"That actually happens quite a bit in the lower classes, I've heard," Violet said. She lowered her voice, with a glance at nearby guests. "That sort of  _ mixing, _ I mean."

Her sister's eyes gleamed. "Common enough among the higher classes," she said, "according to things that  _ I've _ heard..."

_ "Gods, _ Catty—you're so shady—who are you even accusing here?"

Catherine tossed her hair over her shoulder. "A number of people, as it happens. I'm not judging. We're born two girls to every boy, Violet... it's inevitable that half of us will either die knitting socks for our cats, or have to look elsewhere..."

Violet sighed. She glanced down, fluffing the flowers on the front of her dress. 

_ "You _ don't have to worry about this," she said, cocking an eyebrow at Leo, who immediately took another large mouthful of wine. "I think they'd let  _ you _ pick four or five if you wanted. Keep them all in a coop outside like chickens."

Leo huffed; the smile didn't come anywhere near his eyes. "I think I'd rather knit socks for my cat," he said, with an awkward glance at Edward.

Edward smiled, certain beyond doubt that was a much wiser idea. Before he could offer any comment, Catherine cut across him, giggling wildly. 

"Gosh, though," she said, her eyes flashing at Leo, "imagine if  _ you  _ went rogue for a human... imagine the  _ scandal!" _

"Imagine Granny's  _ face!" _ her sister added with glee, and they both dissolved into fits of laughter.

Leo flushed, trying his hardest to smile. It looked almost painful. "I'm not sure I want to."

"I mean,  _ I'd _ get in enough trouble..." Catherine said, delighted at the very thought. "Heir of a family... but gosh, they'd probably lock you up in the tower until you repented, wouldn't they? Bread and water on a tray beneath the door..." Her eyes slid sideways to her sister.  _ "You _ could run off with a human, Violet. No-one cares what you do."

Violet scoffed. "Excuse me. What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting you're the spare," Catherine crooned, wrapped a freckled arm around her shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead. "You know this..."

Edward found himself both uncomfortably invisible and brutishly present at once, observing the conversation with little to do but keep his face clean. He could feel Leo at his side, quiet and embarrassed for him; there was no way to offer reassurance.

Both girls remained oblivious.

"I'm only the spare until  _ you _ get your claws into a human," Violet muttered, sipping her wine as she nestled into her sister's side. "Then they'll divert the Rackheaths through me instead, and you can go live somewhere awful like Sheffield."

"At least I'd be talked about," Catherine supposed, with a sigh. She cast her eyes across the crowd. They skimmed idly from one person to another, searching for entertainment. "Nearly impossible to get talked about these days..."

As Edward watched her lift her glass, taking a drink, he felt the start of an idea click into the back of his mind. 

Violet filled the pause in conversation.

"Okay," she chirped, and relegated her empty wine glass to a passing silver tray. "Enough chit-chat, gentlemen. We've been wanting to take a twirl all night and nobody dares ask when there's two of us."

Edward glanced towards Leo at once, seeking an indicator of their reaction.

Leo blinked; his mouth opened. "You... want to dance?" he said. "Now?"

"We get rather bored," Catherine said, with a sidelong look at Edward. She swept back her hair. "It's never that much fun, just watching..."

Violet reached out for Leo's hands. 

"Come and dance," she said, flashing them open and shut for his own. "Come on.  _ Both _ of you. Seeing as you're so partial to humans, Catty, you can take Mr Whitby. I'll take Leo."

Leo hesitated as she removed the wine glass from his hand, placing it on the floating tray beside her own. "I—I'm not sure Edward knows how to..."

The opportunity was too good to miss. "I do," Edward said, "as it happens."

Leo shot a look of surprise at him, taken aback. "Really?"

"Mm," Edward hummed. "It's been a few years, but I'm sure I can still manage a steady waltz."

"Oh..." Leo glanced through the crowd towards the dancefloor. "Well, I... I guess it wouldn't hurt."

"It might make a pleasant way to be seen," Edward offered, "without being swarmed. And I'm sure your cousin would keep you quite safe."

"Safe and sound," Violet promised, and gave Leo a hopeful tug towards the dancefloor. He crumbled, following her. "That's it! Just one dance."

Edward turned, with a look of chivalrous inquiry, to Catherine.

She smiled, finished her wine and placed the glass aside, then accepted the offer of his arm.

"How kind," she crooned, wrapping her own through his.

Edward inclined his head. "Not at all."

The four of them reached the edge of the dancefloor as the current piece came to an end, with a widespread scattering of applause through the crowd. They took their places beside each other, joined by other couples as the orchestra fluttered through sheet music.

"Is this quite alright by you?" Edward murmured to Leo, back-to-back.

"S-Sure," Leo said. "I mean... we didn't come all this way to hide in a corner all night..."

"Correct," Violet chimed in. "You didn't."

"Is this alright by _ you?"  _ Leo asked, glancing back at Edward. "I didn't even know you could dance." 

"Mm, why not?" Edward smiled, taking up his straight-backed stance as Catherine placed her hand in his and settled into his body. She was a convenient height, he found. She watched him with one raised eyebrow and a half-smile, waiting, and the first notes of the new piece began.

_ Shostakovich. Marvellous.  _

"Be gentle with me please, Lady Rackheath," Edward said.

Her black eyes glittered. "It's Lady Catherine, until someone dies."

Edward made a noise of interest. "Indeed?" he said. "Something for you to look forward to."

As he stepped, she turned with him seamlessly. A marvellous look of surprise crossed her face as she realised he knew what he was doing. It opened into a smile, widening as she relaxed into his hold, and the room revolved quite effortlessly around them. He'd not danced in many years; it came back as if it were yesterday.

"Lady Catherine?" he said, when the steps had become instinctive enough to entrust completely to the music.

"Mm?"

"Forgive me. Are you the sort of young lady who might partake in gossip from time-to-time?"

"Gossip?" she said, in astonishment. "Gosh, no. I've never heard any in my life."

"How sad. I find myself in possession of some and I'm looking to trade."

"Of course... this depends on your definition of  _ gossip,"  _ she said, watching him with a rather feline smile, "and whether we could just call it  _ chatting." _

"Fascinating," Edward said. "I suppose chatting would suffice, in lieu of gossip."

"And what is it you want to chat about?" she asked.

He could see other couples dancing near them from the corner of his eye, graceful blurs of colour and shadow, the crenellated wall of spectators standing still just beyond the light. 

He let them remain where they were, a world away, and concentrated on phrasing this with discretion.

"As your cousin's secretary," he said, "I'm sure you realise it falls to me to help him secure a future for the royal line... and, as we both know, there's a wealth of candidates."

Catherine chuckled. "I'm one of very few girls in this room not hoping I'll someday be queen..."

"Some of them hope more openly than others, I imagine?"

"I suppose you could say that." 

"Tell me," Edward said, as they swirled beneath a chandelier overhead, and the chestnut in her hair flamed in the light. "As an outside observer, with no vested interested in the outcome... who in this room is your future queen?"

She thought about it for several turns, visibly delighting in the question. Her smile curved ever wider across her mouth.

"Why not ask Leo?" she said. "I'm sure he'd be the best judge."

"I'm well aware who the prince would name. I'd like to know if it's the expected outcome."

"Well..." she said, with a coy glance over one shoulder. "The smart money favours a Queen Rosalie, of course... and if she fails, her parents have two other sisters to play. The Allhallows are very  _ motivated _ people, you see. It's been a while since one wormed their way into the direct royal line..."

Edward said nothing, affecting a look of knowing amusement.

"Why?" she asked, regarding him closely across the narrow space between them. "Am I right? Is he going to ask Rosalie to marry him?"

Edward snorted softly. "Lord, no."

_ "Really? _ Why ever not?"

"I fear it would be indiscreet of me to say."

Her glee rounded into a sad-eyed look of reproach. "That's cruel, Mr Whitby... you said you had gossip to trade."

"And you said you're not a purveyor of gossip."

"Well... perhaps just this once, I could hear a little..."

"Very well," he said, half-aware of new space around them, fewer couples to avoid as they turned. "On condition that you keep this solely to yourself... Lady Rosalie already submitted an application to be queen. A highly  _ enthusiastic _ one. It was firmly turned down."

Her eyes lit up like a sky full of fireworks.  _ "Why?"  _ she breathed.

Edward pressed the tip of his tongue into his cheek. "The prince knows very well he's not the only young man to whom Rosalie has applied," he said, smoothly. "I'm afraid she could use a lesson or two in subtlety."

Catherine looked at him as if she'd never heard something so wonderful in her life; her face glowed with almost breathless delight. Whether she would sprint or merely run from the dancefloor to find her sister, Edward didn't know—but half of this room would have heard it by midnight. That, he knew for certain.

"Who  _ does  _ he plan to marry?" Catherine asked, as Edward dipped her backwards in a celebratory whirl of red hair.

He righted her smoothly, returned her to the hold, and tisked. 

"I think I've provided you with  _ quite _ enough chat for one waltz, young lady."

She sighed, smiling as they began to revolve once more. 

"Well... it doesn't matter, I suppose," she said, leaning into his arms. "I'm sure I'll be very bored some day at Leo's wedding to  _ somebody...  _ watching everybody else get to dance..."

Edward hummed. "There are benefits to merely watching."

"Are there?" 

"Mm." The music began to ease towards its end; they made a last idle turn together, slowing into place. "It permits one plentiful time to observe."

Her eyes flashed with pleasure. 

As Edward bowed to her, kissing her hand, applause and whoops broke out from the watching crowd. He lifted his head to discover they were alone on the dancefloor, walled in by smiling faces. A whistle or two pierced the clapping. Catherine glowed beneath the wave of attention, acknowledging their enthusiasm with a gracious and bright-eyed curtsey, her hand still folded into Edward's. 

As Edward inclined his head, thanking them, he searched the watching faces at speed.

_ Where are you? _

He didn't want to think it. Any moment now he'd spot Leo, smiling beside his cousin and clapping along with the others. He didn't want to acknowledge the thought now prickling at the back of his mind,  _ I cannot see you,  _ because Leo would be here somewhere, and the panic now pattering behind his ribs would be proven unnecessary. 

Other couples began to step forward onto the dancefloor; the orchestra struck up another piece.

"One more?" Catherine asked, hopeful.

"I..."  _ Oh god, where are you?  _ "No, I—forgive me. I should return to Leo."

"To 'Leo'?" she said, startled. Edward felt his throat constrict.

"To the prince," he said, frantically scanning the crowd. "To your cousin. Excuse me." He let go of her hand at once. Without another word, he strode quickly through the couples now beginning to slow-dance, winding his way past them in silent panic. 

_ Where are you?  _

A flash of purple wildflowers grabbed hold of his gaze. 

Edward hurried towards them, his heart now pounding. 

Violet looked up as he approached, already in possession of a fresh glass of rosé. He could see no sign of Leo.

"Where is the prince?" he asked at once as he reached her. 

She shrugged, loosely, sipping at her wine. Her stare seemed just a little too intense. 

"I don't know," she said. "When everyone stopped to goggle at you and Catty, he was standing here with me. Next time I looked he was gone." Her eyes flickered to his mouth. "He spent most of our dance trying to watch  _ you," _ she added. "Why he didn't stick around to see the rest, I don't know." 

_ Oh— _

_ Oh—no— _

"Thank you," Edward said, as he felt his heart begin to cave. "Excuse me."

He strode through the crowd at speed, searching left and right with every step. Plenty of faces turned to meet his; none were the face he needed to see. He returned to the drinks table and their quiet ivy-wrapped alcove, in case Leo had retreated there to wait for  him—but there was no sign. Even the tray with their wine glasses had gone.

He looked across the crowd, his pulse slugging harder and faster against his ribs. His eyes snagged on the staircase.

_ A higher view—perhaps if I— _

Halfway there, as he weaved past people as swiftly as he could, a gentleman in a plague doctor's gown and mask turned without warning into Edward's path. Their elbows collided, jolting the man's glass of champagne against his chest. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry—"  _ Dear god, why now, why—  _ "I can't apologise enough. Please excuse me—"

Before Edward could hurry past, the plague doctor reached up and took hold of his beak. He ripped the mask aside.

As a familiar face appeared beneath it, Edward's stomach dropped like a stone.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Rex demanded, staring at him.

_ I absolutely do not have time for you.  _

"I need to find your son," Edward said, his voice hard, his eyes flint, his heart attempting to batter its way out through his throat. "I need to locate Leo quickly. Have you seen him?"

Alarm flashed through Rex's eyes. 

"I didn't even know he was here," he said. "Why? What's happened to him, where is he?"

The breath crushed from Edward's lungs; he felt his eyes roll.  _ Consequences later. You, later.  _ He stormed past Rex without another word, hurrying on towards the staircase. 

He reached it with his throat so tight it now hurt. He raced halfway up, turned and surveyed the crowded room, struggling to breathe. His eyes skipped in panic over tricorne hats and doublets, none of them right, none of them Leo. He could see the Rackheath twins in deep discussion with a large group of people near the drinks table, none of whom were Leo. He studied every dancing couple, willing them to revolve and show him Leo.

Whether he stood there for seconds or an eternity, he didn't know. 

_ You're not here.  _

_ Oh, god. You're not here. _

A hand brushed Edward's elbow.

He turned, his heart leaping in expectation of Leo.

Rosalie Allhallows gazed down from the step above, her expression soft, her hair almost silver in the candlelight. 

"It's... Mr Whitby," she murmured. "Isn't it?"

Edward's stomach clenched with the simultaneous surges of panic and relief. He looked back at her for a few wild seconds of silence, torn in two as he tried to piece together the broken shards of his brain.  _ You're here. That means Leo is safe. You haven't taken him somewhere. _

_ Then where is he? _

"Yes," he managed. He swallowed, defaulting through shock into politeness. "Yes, my lady. It is."

She smiled, as gentle and affectionate as any face he'd ever seen. "Are you looking for the prince?"

Edward calculated at speed.  _ Do you know where he is? Or are you seeking confirmation I do not?  _ If she'd watched him for even a few seconds before she approached him, she'd know the truth already. It would be a reckless lie to attempt. 

"I'm afraid the prince and I have been separated," he told her, with the most convincing smile he could muster. "I don't suppose you've seen him?"

"I think I saw him with Delphine Gorsley not long ago," she replied. "She looked as if she were taking him out into the gardens for air." 

_ Delphine.  _

_ Of course.  _

_ Of course she found you. Of course she'd take you outside.  _

"Thank you," Edward said, his pulse skittering. It felt unsettling to accept her assistance. He couldn't quite suppress the instinct that he shouldn't—but he had little choice in the matter. "Could you tell me how to get there?"

"The fastest way would be through the front door," she said, gesturing through the arch at the top of the stairs, "then turn right. There are benches in the rose garden... I'd start looking there, if I were you."

Edward nodded. He could feel his shoulders starting to shake. 

"Thank you," he said again, and made to step past her. "Thank you. Thank you for your help."

He felt her hesitate.

Before he could pass, her hand reached out to catch his arm. 

Her fingers wrapped around his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Is the prince... quite alright this evening?" she asked. She searched his face from mere inches away; her eyes were breathtaking, even to a man with no interest whatsoever in the female form. She could have stepped from a Winterhalter canvas, as luminous and soft as new snow. She was angelic. "He seems a little off," she murmured.

Edward stared at her, feeling his heart harden slowly into rock. 

_ He didn't dare to push you away. Didn't dare to hurt you.  _

_ You actually frightened him enough to cry. _

Reaching down, without breaking her gaze, he removed her wrapping fingers one-by-one from his arm.

"You're concerned," he said, softly. "You're wondering precisely how concerned you should be."

She didn't move, staring at him in absolute silence.

"The answer is  _ very," _ he told her, quiet, fierce. "More even than you realise. I'm well aware, young lady, that you consider yourself quite the crowning glory of your kind—and you've had no shortage of people to reassure you of that throughout your brief life so far, I'm sure."

His jaw set. 

"I am  _ not _ your kind," he breathed at her. "I see no glory. And I certainly see no crown."

Rosalie's mouth slackened. "I..."

"The prince is under my protection now," Edward said, as he stepped away. "You will leave him alone or I will hurt you. I will hurt you until you stop."

He strode up the stairs without another glance, passed through the archway and along the corridor in silence, his heart hammering in time with his footsteps. 

He found the entrance hall deserted. The front doors were wide open to the darkness, not a soul around to see him leave. The cold air came as a shock against the heat of his face; it stung through the sweat on the back of his neck. 

Edward ignored it as he ran, out of breath, tracking the gravel path around the house.

 


	20. Crowning Glory

_Why did you leave?_

In the moonlight, the walled formal gardens looked like a place from a dream—silvered, silent and strange. As Edward searched from one area to the next, passing through wrought iron archways in the hedges and moving at speed across the grass, his heart seemed by far the loudest thing in the otherwise painful quiet.

_Did you think that I—?_

Leo knew he was gay. He'd surely know that a young woman posed no interest to him—and this assumed, rather boldly, that Leo would be distressed by such a prospect.

_Something else,_ Edward thought, passing into yet another empty garden. The flower beds all around him laid bare, dark squares of soil waiting for summer. _Some other reason. It must be. You wouldn't—that surely wouldn't be so hurtful as to..._

Then, he'd feared for a while that Leo nursed some nervous crush. He was the only non-relative in the poor boy's life; he was the only adult who ever had any kindness or interest to show him. It was understandable for those feelings of care, especially in a youthful heart, to blur and soften and grow.

_But—enough to—?_

Edward dipped beneath another archway, circled a disused fountain and hurried onwards, telling himself he could only help Leo when he found Leo. There might be some other explanation; there might not be. What mattered was ensuring he'd not come to any harm.

The sight of stone benches through the archway up ahead made him stall. He slowed his panicked stride, approaching more softly over the grass.

In the heavy silence of the night, their voices carried through the hedge—Delphine, soft and low; Leo, fragmented, the words almost inaudible and strained with tears.

Edward's heart convulsed as he recognised them. He moved as silently as he could, stopping just out of sight of the iron archway which would bring him into their presence. They didn't realise he was here.

He had no right to eavesdrop.

Closing his eyes, sick with guilt, he forced himself to listen.

"—a-and I—a-and I can't—I just _can't—"_

"Shhh... shhh, babe, I know... I know it sucks..."

"—i-it's getting worse—I can't t-take it anymore—"

"Leo, you... you _have_ to let it go... it can't be like that, okay? It's never gonna be like that."

"I can't—I-I _can't_ just—"

Delphine's soft, hushing response was lost in Leo's muffled sobs. Edward's chest ached as he listened to them, his arm muscles tightening with the need to hold and to comfort, his heart now beating at a speed he couldn't bear.

"Babe..." he heard Delphine murmur, her voice reluctant. "Listen... okay, I know you won't like this—but if it's hurting you this badly, over and over... Leo, maybe he needs to go."

"You don't understand," Leo sobbed, his voice breaking as he inhaled. "I c-can't do that—I couldn't cope if he goes—b-but I can't cope like this, and I can't cope doing nothing—I can't cope with _any_ of it—"

"You can cope _sometimes_ , though... right? Sometimes there are good days... maybe... maybe it'd just be a matter of time..."

"Good days are when i-it's just me and him. N-No-one else. No-one i-interfering." Leo audibly shuddered, gasping back his tears. "S-Shit. _Fuck._ I-It's all changed. I can't go back. I wasn't coping before, I know I wasn't, but now I... n-now I just... a-and I don't know what to do—"

He began to cry again. His voice cracked with every sob, panic splintering his breath. As Delphine tried to hush him, and his sobbing only worsened, Edward swallowed back the last broken remnants of his heart.

He couldn't hear another moment of this. He couldn't bear it.

He had the feeling things were about to change forever. For better or for worse, he wouldn't walk back through these gardens the same man—but this had gone undiscussed for long enough. He couldn't keep hoping it would simply stop.

It wouldn't end until someone ended it.

He moved without breathing towards the archway, barely able to feel his feet upon the ground. As he stepped into sight, Delphine lifted her head from Leo's hair. Her painted mask and golden ram's horns gave her the look of a mythical creature, summoned by the gods to guard Leo fiercely in his grief.

Her eyes found Edward there in the archway, the moonlight falling pale across his face—and her expression set.

She was not pleased to see him.

It took Leo several moments to realise they had company. When he did, following his cousin's gaze with a tear-stricken glance, he froze. They held each other's eyes across the garden; time seemed to lock.

Edward drew a breath, addressing himself to Delphine.

"May I please speak with your cousin?" he asked. Delphine didn't move. "Privately," he added.

She stiffened, her shoulders tensing.

As she opened her mouth, Leo spoke over her.

"It's okay," he said. He swallowed, sitting up from her embrace, and pressed his sleeve against his bare cheeks. He'd taken off his hat and his mask to cry; they laid on the bench beside him. "Go, Delph. I-It's okay."

She watched him for a moment in silence, her expression hard, her gaze fierce with love.

Leo shook, inhaling. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. "Please go, Delph."

Delphine's mouth pulled. She leant forwards without a word, took his face between her hands, and kissed between his eyes. They closed with exhaustion, overcome.

Numb, she let Leo go.

As she walked between the empty rosebeds towards Edward, her elaborate bronze skirts swept over the grass. Her eyes didn't leave his face. Edward stood where he was, waiting, half-expecting her to strike him—he'd never been glared at so sharply in all his life. She reached him, looked away from him, and made to walk past without speaking.

With one foot through the archway, she stopped and turned back.

Looking up into Edward's eyes, her voice too soft for Leo to hear, she said,

"He has nothing." Her throat muscles worked with anger. "You're _everything._ Right?"

Edward didn't speak, unable to.

"Be what he needs," she said, her eyes flaring, "or be a fucking man—and leave."

Edward's heart gripped.

Delphine stepped through the archway, her head held high, and left without another glance.

As he turned his gaze back to Leo, anxious and pale with tears in the moonlight, Edward was left in no doubt that he'd revisit this sight all his life. It felt as if no previous sight had really been worth remembering; no moment had ever mattered as much as this one.

He came to Leo quietly, his tread shadow-soft upon the grass.

As he reached the bench, Leo shifted to one side to let him sit.

Edward lowered himself to the ground at Leo's feet. He settled in the damp grass upon his knees, then reached out both his hands, upturned.

Leo took them, shaking. Fresh tears coursed down his face.

Edward let their fingers weave; he let Leo take another breath.

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

Leo said nothing, gripping his hands in utter silence. He shook his head as it hung down low, unable to look at Edward, unable to talk.

Edward rubbed his thumbs with care over the inside of Leo's wrists.

"I worried," he murmured. "I worried all kinds of things... things I'd never forgive myself for..."

In silence, the prince convulsed.

Edward gently leant closer, resting his head against the side of Leo's. Leo shook; he nuzzled Edward without a sound, tears smudging between their cheeks.

"For a few minutes," Edward whispered, feeling every cell in his body inhale, "for both our sakes... should you and I be honest with each other?"

Their hands tightened together. He took a few moments to breathe, to let it come at last to the surface—the truth—the truth he'd carried these last few weeks like an explosive, ticking, waiting, no more safe for having buried it.

"May we pretend I'm not your secretary?" he asked. His heart clenched as Leo whimpered with grief, incapable of stifling the sound. "May we pretend I'm not twice your age, a social inferior, and a different species?"

Leo listened, shaking, silent once more.

"If those things didn't matter—" Edward whispered. He felt his voice break. "I-In another life, Leo—another universe—if the world comprised this garden, this bench, and the two of us... do you understand that I would cherish you all of my days?"

Leo sobbed, curling into him. He let go of Edward's hands, reaching instead around his back, pulling him close, pushing his fingers up through Edward's hair and gripping him as if afraid to fall.

Edward cradled him, hushing. He ran a hand carefully over Leo's back.

"But to do that to you," he whispered, "in _this_ life... in this world we truly live in... that would be unforgivable of me. It would place you in a position that compromises everything you have. Everything you are. I would bring you the mockery of your peers, the outrage of your family... the rejection of your community... do you understand that I can't bear to cost you so much?"

"I don't want those things," Leo wept, clinging to him, fingers scrunching in his hair. "I don't want a-any of it—I don't want to be prince, I don't want to be fae, I don't want to have a f-family— _I just want you—"_

Edward's eyes shut. He swallowed, almost nauseous with distress.

"And I want the best for you," he breathed. "The _very_ best. Nothing less. That isn't me, Leo—not by any measure—" His heart twisted as the prince held him only tighter, harder. "I need you to be happy."

"B-But—I'm happy now—just h-here—w-with you—I feel safe—"

"And if your family discovered you in my arms like this?"

Leo seemed to break. He gasped out another sob, burrowing tighter into his chest. "Edward..." he wept, cringing. "E-Edward— _please—"_

Edward's throat gripped, straining to stay open enough to produce sound.

"Shhh... shhh, now..." he whispered, rocking Leo slowly as he cried. "Shhh... I'm here..."

"It hurts— _f-fuck, it hurts—"_

"Leo, I... I know I must seem like an escape route to you... after your family, any source of care will come as a—"

"N-No— _not_ any source of care—you, you, it's you, _I want you—"_

"A-And I am fond of you—deeply, desperately—more than I have any right in this world to be. And if I had a single iota of sense, I would have acknowledged my attraction to you in its earliest stages and withdrawn from my position. I've let you down by not doing that. I've been irresponsible towards you. I've been selfish. I should not have allowed this to happen and I'm sorry."

Leo's cheek nuzzled against Edward's, streaking tears between them. "I-It's not even happened yet."

"That's... perhaps for the best." Edward kept his eyes closed, his fingers shaking as he stroked them through Leo's hair. "I care for you too much to jeopardise your future."

He felt Leo swallow.

"What future?" Leo whispered. The hair rose on the back of Edward's neck; the words prickled through his blood, into his bones. "This amazing future you th-think you're keeping safe for me... m-married off. Parties. Social duties. E-Everything I hate."

_God help me._ "I know that at this time," Edward said, "with pressure from your family, your future may seem bleak to you... but that will change. You'll come into your power. An affair with me would endanger that."

Leo spoke the words against his throat, a brush of lips.

"I have no power." He hesitated, swallowing again. "Everyone makes my choices for me. Even you."

Edward's heart tightened. "Leo..."

"You s-say you want the best for me... then you decide what that is."

"Leo, I would complicate a situation which absolutely needs no complication."

"If it's going to be complicated," Leo said, "no matter what I do, why do I have to be miserable and alone? W-Will that somehow help?"

"You won't be alone," Edward breathed, shaking. "You'll have me by your side, supporting you, caring for you, always. I am _not leaving, Leo."_

Leo was quiet for some time, silent and still in his arms. Edward listened without speaking to the whisper of his pulse in his neck, aching to the soul, every cell in his body alight.

"Do you understand how unhappy I was?" Leo said at last. "Do you... d-do you actually realise what you mean to me?"

Edward couldn't bring himself to speak. As he felt Leo's lips press quietly to his neck, a rush of heat and sparks cascaded across his skin, tumbling all their way down his back into the ground beneath him. It took his breath; it opened his mouth.

Leo's arms tightened.

"I feel happier right now than I've been in all my life," he said. "I... I-I don't want to go back. I don't want to stop. Not this time. Please. I want to go forwards."

_Forwards._ Edward's spirit reeled with it—that perfect thought—Leo nestled in his arms this way at Cridhe, safe and happy, glowing in his care. He didn't want to go back either. He'd tried, countless times. The only place they kept coming back to was this one.

But it would be so easy here, away from Leo's family, to make a decision they would later regret.

Edward inhaled, and with care cupped both his hands around Leo's face. He drew back enough to look at the prince, gazing steadily into his eyes. They were as shy and full of pain as he'd ever seen them; somehow, it felt like they could finally see him properly.

He let them look, and let them read him.

He stroked his thumbs over Leo's tear-flushed cheeks.

"You are precious to me," he breathed, and watched Leo's eyes fill with wordless joy. "What I feel for you is... _life-altering,_ Leo. You are the most remarkable person I've ever had the chance to know." He inhaled, slowly. "And I can't deny that I want you. I can't pretend I don't desperately long to be reckless in this moment."

Leo's eyes searched his own, his breath held.

"But," Edward said, softly, "I need to discuss this once we've returned to Cridhe. I'm sure that away from your family, we could make each other all manner of breezy assurances. I'm sure discretion and danger seem like minor considerations at best. But they're not."

Leo listened, taking in his every word.

"I promise you we'll talk more about this," Edward said. He brushed his thumb over Leo's lower lip, his heart pounding as he watched it tug. Leo's gaze fluttered. "I promise you that I'm not dismissing you. Is that... enough, for now? Do you understand why I want to wait?"

Leo's lips pressed together. He watched Edward with a sound, trying to put something into words.

"What is it you're thinking?" Edward asked.

Leo's chest grew with a breath. "I'm wondering how quickly you'll turn cold this time."

Edward felt the accusation slide between his ribs like a blade. He kept hold of Leo's eyes, all too aware he deserved the sharp and sickly rush of guilt. "What would reassure you that I won't?" he asked.

Leo thought about it, his expression quiet and unhappy.

"Nothing," he said, with a reluctant outbreath. "N-Nothing would—..." He swallowed, flushing as he glanced at Edward's lips. "Kiss me," he begged. "Please. Just once."

A soft, silent groan went shivering through Edward's soul. It took him several seconds to speak. As he did, he realised he was gazing at Leo's mouth, still stroking beneath his lips.

"If I do that," he murmured, "there'll be no way back. You and I will be engaged in an affair—and I won't have the strength to end it."

"I'm in love with you," Leo gasped, and Edward felt the world around him heave, blown open in an instant and flooded with restless, aching joy. He felt his lungs fill of their own accord. "I don't care what anyone thinks. You make me feel alive. I waited my whole life to feel alive. Please. Please don't make it stop."

Edward hesitated, his heart ringing with the words.

Soft, desperate pain seared in their wake. He couldn't keep it in his throat; it left him before he could stop it, whispered in a voice which shook.

"Leo, you... you deserve far better than me."

Exhausted tears filled Leo's eyes.

"How can you say that?" he breathed, searching Edward's face. "W-Why can't you just see that you're—" A shudder coursed through his hands. He exhaled, courage calming his gaze. "Do I deserve to choose?"

_God help me—_

_God, please—please just—please—_

"Yes," Edward whispered, staring into Leo's eyes, "of course you do—b-but I—"

"You've said always you'll support me," Leo said. His hands tightened on Edward's back, his fingertips shaking with every word. "You've said you'll do anything for me—w-whatever I've done, whatever mess I've caused—you'll still be there. You'll make it alright."

"There is _nothing,"_ Edward said, "in this _universe,_ that would make me—"

Leo's expression broke.

"Prove it," he gasped, pushed close, and leaned in.

Their lips touched before Edward could move.

Quiet washed over him—perfect, pure and faultless quiet, blanketing his soul within an instant. He felt his every thought fade and vanish into nothing; his heart gave one final, gentle thud.

It didn't matter.

He didn't need his heart to beat—not now. He didn't need to think, or feel, or register anything in his senses outside of that gentle, brave connection: Leo's lips, as soft as falling to sleep, held with hope against his own.

_Leo._

It hurt. The sudden and desperate rush of love struck him without mercy. It didn't blossom like a flower, nor fall like drops of rain; it hit with force, _hard,_ and it hurt. His arms moved to wrap around Leo on their own, no longer caring if he wanted them to stay back. They wanted to hold Leo.

They needed to.

It seemed like the only thing in the world which could ever break this pain—this awful, beautiful and frightening pain, now beating through his veins as his heart once had. _Leo,_ it gasped—over and over, stinging him, shining and shattering— _Leo, Leo, Leo._ Leo's arms curled tight around his shoulders, pushing closer; his own arms pulled. _Leo._ He wanted to cry, distraught at how little of Leo he could hold at once, how inadequate his arms suddenly seemed. He wanted to hold Leo with every single fragment in his body. He couldn't.

_Leo._

Leo had begun to cry again. Tears rolled between their cheeks as they kissed.

Edward stroked them away with his thumbs, cradling Leo's jaw in both his hands— unaware he too was crying.

_I love you,_ he whispered against Leo's lips, unspoken, telling him with the kiss. _I adore you. I don't deserve you. I don't deserve this moment with you. I don't deserve to be the one who takes this place, who holds you like this—and someone will come, someone will be here, someone will take you away from me—_

_But—_

_Leo—_

_Oh, god—Leo—_

By the time their lips gently parted, the universe and everything in it had changed. The silence of the garden gathered round them, holding them together in its safety.

For a short while, neither spoke. Edward let himself simply rest in Leo's closeness, their foreheads pressed, existing only as whatever Leo saw—Leo's eyes, full of tears, taking comfort in his own.

At last, Leo swallowed. His fingers curled nervously at the side of Edward's jaw.

"I want to leave now," he whispered.

_I promised._ "Then we'll leave." Edward's voice sounded strange to his own ears—changed, weak. It sounded like a voice he'd never heard before. "We'll return to Chester Square and we'll talk."

Leo's gaze didn't move from his own, dark and somehow fierce in its calm; his eyes filled with new tears. "Will you listen," he asked, "as well as talk?"

Edward's heart reeled.

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I'll listen."

Leo inhaled. "Good." He glanced at Edward's mouth, his gaze flickering. "If you love me, you'll listen to me. You'll let me tell you." He shivered, breathing in again. "I don't want what's best for me. I want what I want."

_God._

"I... I will try harder to—" Edward's breath cut as Leo's lips stroked across his own, gently brushing, taking the careful kisses they wanted. The wash of quiet flooded Edward's senses all over again. Their noses rubbed; his hands ached to touch. It hurt. "L-Leo..."

Leo shivered, taking the sound of his name as one last kiss.

"I want to be wanted," he mumbled. He pulled back just enough to look at Edward. Some thought scattered his expression with nervous pain. "Don't ever make me watch that again. Please."

Edward hesitated, unsure what he meant. "Watch—?"

Leo flushed, visibly fighting something he didn't want to feel.

"Cat," he said. The sound came so hollow and heavy that at first Edward didn't even recognise it as a name. "I w-wanted to die."

Edward's heart twisted behind his ribs. "I was feeding her false gossip," he said, "about Rosalie Allh—"

"I don't care," Leo breathed, staring into his eyes, and Edward fell silent at once. "I've never seen anyone dance like that. She's tall, and you're tall, and you looked good together, and she looked happy in your arms. Please don't ever make me watch that again."

Edward raised both eyebrows, holding the fearsome stare. "I'll remind you very gently that I'm gay," he said.

Leo said nothing, thoroughly unplacated.

"And," Edward added, watching his eyes, "I have no romantic interest in anyone but you."

He watched Leo try to stay upset; jealousy and relief mingled in the prince's eyes, each struggling to overcome the other.

"I still don't want to see it," Leo breathed at last.

Edward gave a quiet nod. "I understand," he said. He raised himself slowly to his feet, his knees now damp from the grass. He reached for Leo's hands; they were given at once, their fingers threading. "Are you cold?"

"A little," Leo admitted, standing from the bench. "I'll... be alright, when we're in the car..."

Edward reached up to the fastening of his coat. He twisted open the clasp and slid the heavy fabric back from his shoulders, easing it down each arm.

He held it open for Leo; he helped to gather it around him.

 

*

 

As they followed the path back towards the house, Leo kept close to Edward's side, wrapped tight in his coat against the darkness. They walked a single motion of Edward's arm apart, inches away from sharing a silhouette.

He could feel Leo thinking, processing in silence beside him.

Searching for some reassurance to temper the quiet, Edward's eyes fell on the brightly-lit windows of the house. The square-framed glimpses of the rooms inside seemed as pretty and picturesque in the darkness as a dollhouse.

Before he could speak, movement on the upper floor called his attention.

In the same moment that he recognised Rosalie's snowy blonde hair, he realised she was shouting. Her face warped in fright and fury, screaming at someone advancing towards her. As Edward's step faltered, a male figure lunged into view of the window.

Lord Allhallows seized his daughter by the hair. He wrenched at it, dragging her out of sight. The curtains snapped shut.

Rosalie and her father vanished.

As Edward came to a halt on the lawn, staring up at the window, Leo stopped beside him. He read Edward's face with a flash of his eyes.

"What?" he asked, nervously. "What's the matter?"

Edward's pulse scattered, trying to think.

_I can hardly intervene. I doubt I could even locate the room._ The sight of Rosalie's face, trying to twist free of her father's grip, would not be leaving his mind in a hurry—but what difference he could make, to a family already far beyond the scope of his responsibility, he didn't know.

"Edward?" Leo said, concern rising.

The sound of his name jogged Edward's thoughts back into motion.

"Forgive me," he said. "I... I thought I saw something..."

It was uncomfortable to turn away—but his duty was to Leo, now more than ever. The Allhallows would have to look to their own sins.

"I'm not sorry to leave here," he said, exhaling, and placed a hand on Leo's back. He guided him on up the path. "I suggest very strongly that we never return."

"I-I'm fine with that. More than fine."

"Good. Now let's find Alan and leave."

 


	21. The Perfect Person

_'I waited my whole life to feel alive.'_

Edward sat down on the end of the bed to remove his boots, his fingertips weary on the buckles.

_'Please. Please don't make it stop.'_

He couldn't stop hearing it. He couldn't stop feeling Leo's lips, pressed with frightened courage against his own.

He couldn't stop feeling Leo tremble in his arms.

It felt unnerving to be alone, even for this short span of time. The silence seemed to crowd against his ears—a very different silence to the one as Leo kissed him, one that now ached to be filled with thoughts. This small double room in the staff quarters, though it contained little other than the bed and the wardrobe and his suitcase, seemed vastly too big around him. He felt lonely within it all—numb, in some ways; painfully raw in others.

Weakly, he tugged the boots from his feet. He let them remain on the floor where they dropped, unable in this moment to care. It wasn't like him, and he knew it—but there was a strange comfort in not caring, just for once. He stripped off his socks and left them on the carpet too, then eased the naval coat from his shoulders.

At last, in his loose linen shirt and breeches, Edward laid himself back upon the bed.

It was easier to think, facing the blankness of a ceiling. The featureless expanse of white paint encouraged him to close his eyes.

He let them shut, exhaling.

He let his fingers feel the coolness of the covers.

It was almost strange deciding where to begin. _Dear journal,_ he thought, and drew a deep breath, unsure if he wanted to laugh or to cry. His heart ached with the truth. _It could cost him everything._

_And still I want him._

It tightened his lungs even to contemplate where it would lead. 'Scandal' wasn't the word. Leo would find himself a laughing stock of his entire world. Edward himself would be dismissed without a breath, and he'd be deposited right back where he'd been: staring in panic at a future with no future, a shipwreck of a wasted life, a fool who'd played it safe and lost, a fool who'd taken a risk and lost, then a fool who'd finally crawled his way in shame into the scrapyard where he belonged.

_Surely there is no other outcome. Surely I can't lie here and convince myself there would be some... some fairytale ending._

He wanted to try. His fingers tightened in the covers, the pain hot and sharp for several breaths. He wanted to pretend he could live quite comfortably as a fae prince's clandestine human mistress for decades and decades, and that none of them would ever notice. He could persuade Leo to marry someone—some temperate and reasonable girl, who in exchange for a life of lonely and luxurious misery would avert her eyes each night as Leo slipped upstairs to his secretary's room.

 _Hope,_ he thought, swallowing. _The thing with feathers._

Love, too, was a thing with feathers.

It felt uplifting and wild and wonderful—as good as if no bad could ever come from it—as if it would last forever, changing all darkness in its path to light. Love never felt like a shrug.

Love felt like all the world could feel it, too.

And the truth was that he loved to be needed.

It was what he'd always known as a child. Anything else felt unsettling and insubstantial to him, as if his life had been laid upon shifting ground. It seemed like a much lesser thing to be merely wanted—wanted like a drink, or a dessert, or a sunny day at the weekend. The things someone needed, and the things that they wanted, were often poles apart.

But what did Leo need?

Was it for Edward to act responsibly towards him—to manage this situation with self-control and reservation, with a thought for the future—or to bring a little comfort and brightness to his life?

Closing his eyes, Edward placed his hands in silence across his face.

_Endangering everything, for the sake of a little comfort._

_And where will the comfort be in unemployment? In social disgrace?_

He pushed his hands back into his hair, scrunching the strands onto end. On Monday, he would take himself alone on a very long walk. He would walk until he'd walked some sense into himself. _God help me,_ he thought, breathing in hard, _as if it will change anything. As if it will make me forget that kiss._

It hurt to the bone, hot and aching.

 _'I don't want to be prince,'_ Leo had wept. _'I don't want to have a family.'_ Barely an hour ago he'd been cradled in Edward's arms, whispering love to him, begging him not to grow cold, and it had all felt as if nothing could be simpler. _All you want in this world is me to love you. A few weeks of my care, and you're blossoming. I want you to thrive. I want it to be me._

He couldn't bear the thought that Leo would be mocked for consorting with a human—an unworthy human at that.

He couldn't bear the thought that Leo would be lonely.

Inhaling, Edward forced himself to look into the truth.

_I will have to bear one of them._

As he heard the water switch off in the pipes, he rubbed at his temples to try and disperse his thoughts. He had to comfort and support Leo through this; he'd caused Leo enough grief now to last a lifetime. _Tea, perhaps,_ he thought. _A good night's sleep. A return to Cridhe, to real life. A reminder of the world where we'll have to live out our decisions. And somehow... somehow we will..._

Before he could summon the strength to move, the bathroom door clicked open.

He lifted his head from the pillow to find Leo in the doorway, barefoot and wet-haired from the shower. He was wrapped in a soft white towelling robe; the light behind him swirled through clouds of steam.

He watched Edward quietly from the door, his gaze as soft and guarded as the moment they'd first met.

Edward almost smiled.

_Why do I ever try to think?_

Shyly Leo came around the bed, his footsteps soft and silent on the floor.

_Why do I tell myself I have even a single scrap of control here?_

Leo eased up onto the bed, keeping a hand on the sash of his towelling robe. He settled on his side to face Edward, resting his head gently on the other pillow.

Edward watched him, aching inside.

_Why do I not learn, every time I lay my eyes on you?_

Leo looked back at him with gentleness, as patient as if he'd lie here and wait all night. In one motion, Edward could cup his cheek. He could stroke Leo's lips with his thumb; he could lean close and kiss him, and be alright, and forget.

The corner of Leo's mouth lifted.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

 _Where to begin?_ Edward watched him for a little longer: the peace in his expression, the darkness of his eyes in the lamplight.

"I wish I was a bad person," he said at last, soft.

Leo smiled. "What would you do, if you were?"

The answer came far too easily to mind.

"Kiss you," Edward said, quietly. He took in a long breath. "Make love to you until the morning. Return to Cridhe at your side, look your grandmother in the eye, and sleep well each night."

Leo bit the corner of his lip. "You've not met many bad people, have you?"

Edward supposed he couldn't deny that. "What actions would you now consider bad?"

Leo thought about it, his gaze trailing the collar of Edward's shirt.

"Turning cold," he said. "Just... leaving it, like this. Telling me I'm precious to you, then acting like I'm nothing."

Edward steadied himself, his heart drawing tight. "And what actions would you consider good?"

Leo met his eyes. He said nothing, waiting.

Edward knew beyond doubt what was going through his mind.

"By your people's traditions," he said, his voice breaking slightly, "you have a soul mate somewhere. He'll appear to you someday."

Leo huffed.

"You know I don't believe in all that." He shifted slightly, easing the pillow into place beneath his neck. "My mum has a soul mate. All he's ever done is spoil her life. She could have dated, found someone nice... like humans do. Instead she sat waiting by a window, because he'd promised he was on his way."

Leo reached out; he laid his fingertips on the back of Edward's wrist.

"If I have a soul mate," he said, "and he wasn't here when I needed him... he's not really my soul mate. Do you understand that?"

Edward listened, silent, painfully aware of Leo's fingertips resting on his skin.

"My life's ruled by accidents of birth," Leo said. "I'm... so bloody tired of it. If someone kicked down the door right now, and announced he was my soul mate, here to claim me... that's the last thing I want in this world. The perfect person would be someone I fell in love with anyway. Someone I chose. Someone kind, and gentle. Someone clever. Someone who cares more about me than he does about the prince."

As he glanced into Edward's eyes, Edward felt his heart strain to breaking point.

"I want to be in love," Leo whispered. "Like normal people are. Please tell me you get that." He stroked his fingertips up Edward's arm, gently easing back the loose sleeve of his shirt. "Like humans fall in love. You don't have birthmarks. You still manage to love each other."

Edward's throat gripped; he managed somehow to speak. "We... do _have_ birthmarks. They're not considered soul marks."

"See?" Leo shifted his body gently closer, continuing the path of his fingers. "Ours are just birthmarks, too. They don't glow blue or sparkle. Everyone just decided at some point they mean something... we see shapes in them like shapes in clouds..."

Edward couldn't bear not to ask. He'd wondered for too long now. "Where is yours?"

Leo flushed; the corner of his mouth lifted. "On my arm," he said. "Had to wear sleeves to the wrist all my life."

Edward huffed. "I know that annoyance."

"Mm?"

"I... well, it's hardly the same."

"No... go on..."

"I have a mark on my arm which earned me ridicule at school," Edward said. The smile felt weak, even to himself. "I imagine the interest in yours has been very different. But it fortifies the point, I suppose... humans put no shore by these things. Even mock them. Their meaning is wholly cultural."

Leo's smile softened. "It's a nice tradition, if it works out. Or it's a guaranteed way to waste your life." His eyes glittered, curious. "Where on your arm?"

Leo's fingertips had in fact come to rest on it, hidden beneath the crumpled linen of Edward's sleeve. He indicated with his other hand, a gentle pat.

"Really?" Leo smiled, stroking. "That's where mine is."

"Mm?"

"Mm... opposite arm, but..."

Edward smiled too, shifting his arm to run his fingertips gently over the spot on Leo's towelling robe. "Here?"

Leo nodded, shivering slightly. Amusement warmed his gaze as he traced Edward's skin beneath the sleeve.

"It's not a heart, is it?" he joked.

As Edward stiffened, staring into Leo's eyes, he watched the smile melt from the prince's face.

 _"Is it?"_ Leo said, staring back.

Edward didn't move. It took effort to speak, his entire focus drawn tight to the fingertips now frozen upon his birthmark. "It... i-it could be interpreted as—"

The last of the colour bled from Leo's face. Shaking, he looked down and pushed up Edward's sleeve, exposing the deep pink heart to the lamplight.

He didn't say a thing.

He simply stared, unbreathing, as the silence ached around them.

"Leo—" Edward hadn't meant it to sound like a plea. He hadn't meant the word to crack in his throat, but it did. "L-Leo—"

Leo looked up, his mouth slack with shock.

Something broke in his expression.

"That's—" He began to cry, pushing away from Edward in panic. "No, you—y-you can't be—it's not possible, you're human—you're _human—"_

"Leo—"

"Oh, shit—"

_"Leo—"_

"Oh, fuck— _fuck—"_

"Leo, _for the love of god—"_

"It's not real, it's not real—it's not even real—"

"I need you to show me," Edward said, sitting up. Leo backed off the bed. He grabbed for the crook of his arm, curling his hand around it in distress. "Leo, even if the marks are similar, it doesn't mean—"

"That's _my mark,"_ Leo said, struggling to breathe. "That's it—i-it's the same, it's _exactly_ the same—"

"It's a superstition, Leo—it doesn't have to—"

Leo's expression contorted. He reached for the sleeve of his robe, dragging it up.

At the crook of his left forearm, as clear and crisp as any tattoo, was the deep pink stain of a heart.

The sight of it crashed Edward's brain.

 _That is my mark._ That was his heart, the one he'd wearily covered up all his life. They were exact in every detail. He didn't even need to glance at his own to be certain.

It felt like seeing his own eyes in someone else's face.

It took him almost a minute to speak, his head and heart both ringing with a single question. He tore his gaze from the mark and looked up at Leo, unsure when it was he'd started shaking.

"What— _exactly_ —does this mean?" he said.

"You think _I know?"_ Leo yelped. "You think I have a _bloody clue?"_ His expression tightened as he started to cry again, dropping his sleeve. "You're not meant to have that," he said. "You're human—shit, I don't—I don't understand—"

Edward's heart clenched. He could feel the blood draining from his veins; he didn't know where it was going. It was leaving him somehow, fleeing him in shock.

"I need you to come here and sit down," he said. "We need to discuss this."

"No—n-no, I don't want to sit down—"

"There's no reason to panic."

"Oh, _shit—_ if my family find out—i-if they find out you've got that—"

"Leo, _it means nothing._ It's a birthmark. There's no reason for either of us to assume that—"

Leo swayed. He caught himself with a hand on the wardrobe, his face nearly as white as his towelling robe. Before Edward could get off the bed to steady him, he'd righted himself and staggered towards the door.

Edward's stomach lurched. "Leo—"

Leo didn't look round. He wrenched the door open and stumbled through it.

"Leo!" Edward barked. The door slammed shut. "God—"

By the time he got out into the corridor, Leo was already running up the stairs.

Edward followed him at a sprint, his heart thundering.

 _"Leo!"_ he shouted at the top of the staircase, as Leo ran up the second flight of stairs towards the bedrooms. "Leo, I meant it doesn't _have to_ mean—"

Leo disappeared from sight. A few moments later, there came the slam of another door and then silence.

Edward reached the corridor panting, his skin flushing hot and cold in waves. He tested every handle until he found the one that refused to open, right at the end of the corridor. He rapped on it hard with his knuckles, out of breath.

"Leo," he panted. "Leo, open this bloody door."

"I want you to go!" Leo shouted through it, audibly crying. "I want you to leave, _I want you to go—"_

Edward tugged at the handle. "Leo, open this door!"

There came no response.

_Christ and all the angels._

Shaking, Edward turned and slammed his back against the wood, allowing his knees to bend and drop him to the floor.

"I am staying here," he called, his heart pounding, "until you open this door and speak to me. It means _what we agree it means._ Until we've agreed, I will sit here."

"You'll be waiting a while!" Leo shouted.

"So be it!" Edward barked. "God knows I have the patience..." He shut his eyes, letting his head drop back against the door. "Do not stay in that wet robe. You'll catch a cold."

There came no response.

Edward drew a breath, gathered his knees to his chest, and prepared himself for a long night.

 

*

 

There was a clock somewhere on a floor below; it sounded the half-hours and the hours. Its faint chiming seemed dreadfully lonely within the stillness of the house.

As he listened to it mark the hour for a second time, Edward found himself thinking of all the nights it must sound without a single soul to hear it.

This place was a prison—a beautiful, comfortable prison.

If it ever came into Leo's possession—and if Edward were around to see that day—he would beg Leo wholeheartedly to sell it.

He'd find the clock, and take it with them, and never let it go unheard again.

 

*

 

Edward couldn't be sure he'd truly heard the third chime of the hour or not. He suspected he might have dreamed it; his thoughts had ebbed between miserable lucidity and whirling uncomforting half-sleep for some time now. His back ached against the door. His joints felt stiff, no matter how many times he rearranged them.

There would be chairs in the nearby bedrooms. It would take him all of a minute to retrieve one.

He didn't quite understand why he hadn't—until the third or fourth chiming of the hour faded into nothing.

A quiet voice spoke from the other side of the door.

"Are you still there?"

 _How long have we been sitting here together? Were we ever apart?_ Edward kept his eyes closed. "I am," he murmured.

There came no response; the quiet dragged, echoing along the corridor.

"Let me in, Leo," he begged. "Please." He pressed his cheek against the wood. "I promise I shan't talk. I'll listen."

Leo's voice came weak with tears. "I don't have anything to say."

Edward's heart thudded slowly in the quiet. He chose his words. "Not even to me?"

He heard Leo draw a shaking breath, beginning to cry.

"Used to lie awake in my dorm room at night," he said through the door. His breath cut. "W-Whisper to you about my day. Ask about yours."

Edward felt his pulse reel. He waited to speak until it had eased.

"When did you stop believing?" he asked.

"E-Eighteen." It was hell not to see Leo; it was hell not to touch him in this moment. "Gran started—w-which girl I was going to marry. Realised I couldn't—e-even if I found—" Distress tightened his voice into nothing for a moment. "I started thinking people just f-fooled themselves. S-Saw what they wanted to see. It didn't mean anything. It didn't matter."

Edward listened, aching.

He laid a hand in silence against the door.

"Have you ever heard of... other humans, with—?"

"N-No." Leo was quiet for some time. "I'm sorry."

 _God._ "I didn't realise you'd wronged me?"

"I—I-I know you don't want—"

"Do you _know_ that?" Edward asked, tightening his grip upon his knees. "Have you heard me say it?"

"Y-You didn't even want to—l-let alone—"

"Have I ever said 'I don't want to', Leo?"

"No—b-but you..." Leo's voice faded.

Edward took a moment to understand what he needed to say. He closed his eyes as he spoke, wishing to god that he could see Leo's face.

"Ten weeks ago," he said, "I... lost my life. I lost my position. I lost my home. I lost what bleak semblance of a family I had. I was cancelled like a magazine subscription. I had so very little. I lost it all regardless."

He felt the quiet heave, the whole house fallen silent to listen.

"I've never been in love," he murmured. "I've never known what—n-nobody has ever seemed to... and then I laid eyes on you, and it made sudden perfect sense. My life hadn't fallen apart. It had brought me to you, and everything was quite alright."

He didn't know why he suddenly longed to cry; tiredness burned behind his eyes.

He kept it from his voice, letting his eyes shut to soothe them.

"It... hurts to fall, Leo. Happiness now feels like a cliff-edge. And you say you want to walk it with me, hand-in-hand." His throat gripped; the words left him in a rush. "I-I couldn't bear to see you fall. Not you. Not because of me."

The silence that came seemed to last half the night.

"What if we were meant to walk it?" Leo asked, at last. "What if we were meant to fall?"

Quiet tears blurred Edward's vision. He blinked slowly, letting them well over and run.

"I don't know what the position of soul mate entails," he said, his voice shaking. "I've barely handled the position of private secretary. It seems quite a hike of responsibility."

"I... I don't know what it involves, either." Leo was quiet for a moment. Edward could almost feel him there against the door, shoulder-to-shoulder through two inches of wood. "I've heard things, but... w-whether half of it's true, I don't know." There came a pause. "I think it means it's easy for us to fall in love."

Edward gripped his knees in silence, trying to settle himself with a breath. "The rest of the duties are... decided in due course, are they?"

"I-I guess so... I mean—i-it's our mark," Leo said. "We decide what it means."

Edward's heart twisted gently.

"Leo," he said, turning his head towards the keyhole. "If I loved you—if all I wanted in this moment was to comfort you—however you needed, however I could—please tell me what I would do."

The silence strained. He couldn't be sure if he'd heard Leo shift, or if it was his own wishful thinking.

There came a tiny hollow click.

Heart pounding, Edward reached for the handle.

As it turned, it gave a slow and quiet squeak; another click inside the lock released the mechanism. The door eased open. He brushed it with his fingertips, crawling through the open doorway—and on sight of the young man in tears on his knees just inside, his soul tore itself into shreds.

He put his arms around Leo, gathering him silently into a hug.

For a while, there were only wordless tears.

Leo held him as if he didn't dare to believe it, shaking in Edward's arms.

"Would you sleep with me?" Leo whispered at last, his voice thick with distress. He swallowed, shivering against Edward's neck. "N-Not to—just to... I-I want to hold you. I want to wake up with you. I don't want to be on my own."

Edward brushed back the hair from Leo's temple; he pressed his lips to it with love. "Of course," he said, softly. "This room?"

Leo shook his head, tightening his arms around Edward's waist. "D-Downstairs," he said. "In the..."

"In the servants' quarters."

"I h-hate it up here."

"Downstairs, then," Edward murmured, and laid his lips against Leo's temple once more. "If we miss our flight tomorrow, there are trains. We'll sleep as late as you wish. I'll make your breakfast for you."

He felt Leo's chest expand in his arms. "A-Alright..."

"No more discussion for now." Edward scrunched his fingers gently in Leo's hair. "Y-You and I are together. The rest will come in time."

Leo shuddered softly, breathing in. "E-Edward?" he whispered.

"Mm?"

"I love you." Leo's voice broke. "I-I've loved you since I saw you. I need you to know. I... I-I need you to know that."

Edward felt the words sink between his skin. He hesitated, afraid to push too far—but more afraid to push too little.

He reached down gently, curled his fingers beneath Leo's chin, and stroked a thumb across his lips. Leo lifted his head into the touch, as nervous and obedient as a lamb; he trembled as Edward leant down.

The brush of their lips flooded Edward's veins with comfort. He caught Leo's soft intake of air, overcome, and knew that Leo had felt it too—that rush of perfect quiet; that sense of utter calm.

What it meant, he didn't know.

It seemed enough in this moment just to feel it.

 


	22. Details

He'd slept the night as snug to Edward's chest as a baby monkey, hands closed tight in the fabric of his pyjamas. Any faint stir, the tiniest shift, and he sought to nestle close again at once; he only seemed to breathe with Edward's arms wrapped safe around him. Even in his sleep, he wanted to be cuddled.

He was utterly beautiful.

Edward had been awake since nearly seven. It was now well past eight, and he'd done nothing but lie here, safe within the quiet of their small basement room, watching over Leo gently as he slept. Whether the world even still existed outside, he didn't know—and didn't care.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen another person sleeping. 

It all seemed so long ago it wasn't worth bringing to mind. As he stroked the tousled waves of Leo's hair with his fingertips, gazing down at the gentle quiet of his features, he had the most wonderful and overwhelming sensation of peace—an absolute lack of all thought and all worry. In this moment, if called upon, he would walk through fire for Leo. He wouldn't even pause to consider.

It wasn't any kind of conscious decision. 

It was simply the truth of things; he could no sooner change it than pull the sun from the sky. 

As Edward's fingers eased through the softer hair at the back of his neck, Leo made a tiny sound against the pillow. He stirred in Edward's arms, pulling a deeper breath into his lungs; he nuzzled into the contact. 

Edward smiled to himself, letting the small curls form around his fingertips again. He stroked them through.

Leo's sleepy shiver made him ache. The prince hummed, tightening his hold on the back of Edward's pyjama shirt. With another deep breath, his eyelashes fluttered and lifted; he eyed Edward fuzzily from beneath them. 

Edward watched him in return, letting a half-smile lift his mouth.

"Good morning," he said.

Leo took this on board. "How are you?" he asked, his voice dry and soft.

The quiet simplicity of it made Edward's heart thump. He answered honestly, still brushing the backs of his fingers over Leo's neck. "Perfectly alright," he murmured. The prince's gaze eased with relief. "You seemed to sleep well."

"Mmhm... better than I thought I would." Leo shifted; his gaze flickered to Edward's mouth. "Are you cold with me yet?"

Edward suspected he would always feel a twinge of guilt over that. 

"I'm sorry I tried to distance myself from you," he said. "Truly. I did it in the hope things weren't too late." He brushed out a few of Leo's curls. "I think we can safely say it's now too late."

Leo watched his face, reading something there. "What are we going to do, Edward?"

Edward inhaled. He let the quiet all around them ease his thoughts. 

"We will shower," he replied. "We'll get dressed, and have breakfast together. We'll make our way back to Cridhe. Anything past that point, I'm sure we can attend to when we reach it."

Leo paused. His gaze skipped to Edward's mouth again, a flicker so careful it tightened Edward's stomach to behold.

"It's your day off," the prince noted, softly.

"Is it?"

"Today and tomorrow. We agreed."

"I'm... not sure I recall 'agreement' on my part. Acquiescence, perhaps."

"Acquiescence  _ is _ agreement." Leo bit the corner of his lip, colour warming his cheeks. "You're not my secretary. Not today. You're just... just Edward. You're just someone I know."

_ Just someone you woke up with. Somebody who adores you.  _

"Does that alter my plans for the day?" Edward asked, quietly. He watched Leo's expression shiver. 

"Could it?" Leo asked.

In response, he simply waited.

As shy as if it were the first time, Leo stirred closer. His body shifted to rest on top of Edward's, their skin kept apart by only thin layers of cotton. He touched Edward's jaw with his fingers, and there came a moment where they simply breathed, watching each other, well aware of what it all meant.

Leo leant in. 

He pressed their lips together, trembling.

Edward's eyes closed on their own. 

He laid still, perfectly at ease, and let Leo take what he wanted from his lips: soft, slow, willing kisses. The quiet sound of contact raised the hair on his arms. He kept his hands safely anchored at Leo's waist, holding him gently and without demand, and eased his focus onto ensuring his own breath stayed soundless. Even as Leo nuzzled closer with a shiver, cupped his jaw in both hands and deepened the kiss, Edward made no motion to advance things. He let Leo shyly search his mouth; he let his heart beat heavy and slow against his ribs, unworried.

After long minutes, Leo shifted again with a half-swallowed whimper. Their hips rubbed, revealing all too clearly the effect being had upon them both. 

It necessitated the gentle intervention of Edward's hands. 

He took Leo lightly by the hips, holding him still—easing the hopeful rocking of his pelvis. 

"Not here," he murmured, between kisses. "Not unplanned."

Leo made another nervous sound, trembling on top of him. 

"I want to," he whispered, as their noses stroked. His breath hitched. "I... I-I think about you every night. I think a lot. Please."

Edward's pulse bucked at the thought. If he were a man of weaker resolve, with more regard for his own gain, any trace of someone's virginity might now be unlikely to return to Scotland with them. 

Sadly, he'd gotten rather good at being good.

He'd let a number of castle walls crumble lately. This one—for now—would stay standing.

"Last night was intense," he said, gently, "for  _ both _ of us. It might even be termed monumental." He placed a light kiss on Leo's lips, allowing it to linger. "I'd like today to be rather less eventful."

He felt the reluctant shiver pass through Leo's body as if it were his own. 

"I'm twenty-four," the prince reminded him, pained.

Edward couldn't hold in his smile. "Are you suggesting there's a best before date you need to catch?" he asked.

"Mhm. I'll go stale."

"I'm not sure that's true, young man."

"How would you know?" Leo asked, fighting a smile. It widened into a helpless grin as he kissed Edward's lips. "Shagging your way around Cambridge," he added.

"Ah—excuse me. Nobody here 'shagged their way around Cambridge'. I barely managed most of my college."

Leo's eyes glittered with delight. "Do they give you a bingo card when you arrive?" he asked, curiously. "Or did you just decide to make your own?"

Edward realised, with a leap of his heart, that he was grinning. 

"I was very young," he said, patiently, as Leo attempted to interrupt him with sly and smiling kisses. "I was unused to freedom. It went to my head. I regret my early encounters and I've no wish for you to say the same."

As he slipped his fingertips beneath the hem of Leo's pyjama shirt, stroking over his bare lower back, Leo stiffened and gave a soft moan.

"You've coped for twenty-four years," Edward added, stealing a kiss. "You will cope a little longer."

Leo bit his lip. "Maybe  _ I _ should go to Cambridge," he said, softly. "Print me an application form, will you? I don't care which college."

_ Mhm. _ "We'll find you something online."

"I want to go properly," the prince protested, arching beneath the upward stroke of Edward's hands. "Meet some people... have some fun..."

Edward's stomach gave a displeased twist. "You are not going anywhere near Cambridge."

"Why not?" Leo asked, disappointed.

_ Because you are mine. And you have the mark to prove it.  _ "They wouldn't take you," Edward said, running his hands down Leo's back. "The admissions tutors know trouble when they see it."

Leo huffed; enjoyment tightened his face. "You managed to sneak your way in, didn't you?"

Edward smiled, ignoring the happy thump of his heart. "You utter scamp." 

An answering smile curved against his mouth. 

"So," Leo hummed, and traced his thumbs beneath Edward's lips, "the conclusion we've reached here..."

"—is that you are mischievous," Edward murmured, "and very lucky that I have some pitiful scrap of resolve left in my bones, even on my day off. You will be returned to Scotland unbesmirched and inviolate. And as recompense, I will buy you a bag of Maltesers for the plane journey. Be grateful."

Leo grinned. 

"A big bag?" he said.

 

*

 

The car journey to Heathrow seemed to take twice as long as it should. Edward spent it answering e-mails on his phone, keenly aware of both Alan in the front seat and Leo sitting at arm's length from him, hands folded in his lap, the radio just a little too quiet, the silence just a little too full. 

If Alan noticed the change in the air since last night, he had the good grace not to mention it—or perhaps more likely, did not care.

Leo started to fiddle with his sleeve by the time they reached the terminal. Edward noted it immediately. He made no attempt to delay Alan, thanked him for his services, and guided Leo through the door of the terminal as the car drove away.

Inside, alone once more, he eased his arm around Leo's waist. 

Leo leaned into him with relief. 

They walked towards security together, slowly, letting those travellers in a hurry sweep past them.

"Are you alright?" Edward murmured, dipping his head to Leo's hair.

Leo shivered a little, humming. "I-I'm fine. Just... felt weird, not to..."

"Mm. It's important we don't."

"I know—believe me, I know—I just..."

"It's alright. I appreciate it's going to be difficult today." Edward placed a quiet kiss to Leo's temple. "You did very well," he murmured. "Luckily, we now have several hours in which we can relax and be alone."

Relieved, Leo nuzzled into his shoulder. It was surprisingly easy to walk this way, Edward found; their height difference didn't affect their step.

"You don't... mind this, do you?" Leo mumbled. His arm tightened around Edward's waist. "This, I mean."

"Should I?"

"N-No. Please don't mind it."

"Then I won't." Edward smiled against Leo's temple, letting him feel it. "Here," he said, softly. "Hand me your bag."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not on duty."

"In this instance, I'm being chivalrous. Give me it, please."

"A-Alright..." Leo blushed as Edward took the bag neatly from his hand, sliding it over his opposite shoulder. "People will think I'm some kind of spoiled sugar baby."

"Some kind of what?"

"A—actually, forget it. It doesn't matter."

"A  _ 'sugar baby'?  _ What on earth is a—"

"Argh. Please just bleach that term from your brain."

"You're well aware I'm going to google this, the very moment we're ensconced in Caffe Nero?"

Leo shot him a pleading look, his eyes bright and pained at once. "I'm  _ officially _ begging you not to," he said.

"How sad that your pleas fall on deaf ears, young man. I need to know of what manner of filth I'm being accused."

"You're assuming it's filth?"

"The look in your eye certainly suggests as such."

"Alright. Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

 

*

 

As Edward returned to the squashy leather sofa with their drinks, Leo watched him with a look of round-eyed hope. He shifted over to let Edward settle beside him; Edward sank back, resting his arm along the back of the couch.

Glowing quietly, Leo nestled into his side. He laid his head on Edward's shoulder, sneaked an arm across his torso, and hid a small kiss against the corner of Edward's jaw.

Smiling, Edward retrieved his phone from inside his coat. 

As he typed in the words, he could feel Leo watching with a mixture of apprehension and amusement. He hit search; the gist of the matter became clear within a few thumb-scrolls.

Loading up the top-suggested website, Edward's eyebrows inched towards his hairline.

"You're suggesting I could be mistaken for—" He read the introduction aloud, his eyebrows lifting higher with every word,  _ "—'a wealthy older gentleman, looking to lavish gifts and other financial benefits on a younger and usually more attractive partner'." _

Leo shook with suppressed laughter, his lip bitten and his black eyes bright.

"You did buy me Maurice," he said. "And you promised me Maltesers today."

_ You delightful little imp.  _ Edward primed his response, sliding his tongue across his teeth. "I'm not sure that outweighs the significant monthly salary your family pay me. I also imagine the, ah...  _ empowered young people _ who engage in this practice expect rather more than a Forster novel and a bag of Maltesers for their pains."

"I'm a simple creature," Leo said, his smile playing wider across his mouth.

Amused, Edward closed the tab on his phone. "I shan't ask how you came to learn this term."

"Don't."

"I can only assume you've been associating with unsavoury people. Clearly I'll have to keep a closer eye on you... all these trips to the pub with Delphine."

"—to... talk about you," Leo murmured.

Edward swallowed his smile.  _ And caravans, and wallpaper.  _

"Drink your hot chocolate," he said, angling the handle of the mug towards Leo. "The marshmallows are not some kind of down payment."

 

*

 

Twenty minutes out of Edinburgh, Leo lifted his head from Edward's shoulder.

"H-Hey," he murmured. Edward tilted his gaze from the crossword they were sharing, glancing fondly into Leo's eyes. Leo flushed. "If we head straight back to Cridhe, they'll have most of the afternoon to come and speak to me. I'll be expected at dinner with them all. They'll have questions to ask. I... I don't know if I have the..."

Edward's heart tugged at the thought. He closed the newspaper, shifted slightly to face Leo, and cupped his cheek in one hand.

"Are you asking me to fill a space in your diary?" he said.

Leo gazed at him, round-eyed and quiet. "Please."

"In that case, we were inconveniently delayed by full security checks at Edinburgh airport. By the time we'd finished, you were rather distressed and annoyed, and I decided you'd benefit from a walk through Edinburgh and dinner before returning home."

"Okay... a-alright. That's fine."

"What would you like to do with the time?"

Leo's gaze softened. "I... quite like the sound of a walk through Edinburgh and dinner, to be honest."

Edward smiled; he stroked the corner of Leo's lips with his thumb. 

"Tomorrow morning," he said, "I suggest you slip out of the house fairly early with Delphine. Your grandmother will probably want to speak to me early, so I can tell her how delightfully successful this weekend was. If you're gone by then, you won't be dragged in."

Leo's expression pulled, torn between a wince and a smile. "Skip over some details, will you?"

Edward searched his beautiful eyes, amused. 

"Which details?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Which part of this weekend could be unsuitable for your grandmother's hearing?"

Leo looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or not. "That we're s—..." He hesitated, his fingers curling awkwardly at the crook of Edward's arm. He swallowed back the words with a nervous smile. "Well, she... probably doesn't want to know we woke up together. Put it that way."

Edward smiled slightly, his heart beating harder for the words unsaid. He took a moment to settle it, watching Leo's eyes reach for comfort from his own.

He leant close, pressing a soft and soundless kiss to Leo's cheek.

"There's little for her to know," he murmured, the words low and gentle—for Leo's hearing only. He felt Leo's arms ease nervously around his waist. "She already knows that your welfare is my greatest priority. She knows that you've come to trust me and rely on me. Nothing has changed in either of those regards. I'm sure she doesn't plan to ask where either of us woke up this morning... and so, there will be no reason to tell her."

Leo stayed quiet for a moment, holding onto him, hands gathering gently in the back of his jumper.

"If anyone ever does ask..." he whispered.

Edward closed his eyes. "I will lie until my tongue rots in order to protect you," he murmured. He kissed the slope of Leo's shoulder. "I suggest you do the same. Be appalled by the very suggestion. Deny everything, all of it, regardless of how damning it seems, and tell me as quickly as you can."

"O-Okay... okay, I will."

_ Good boy.  _ Edward hugged him, gently. "There's nothing for anyone to know, after all."

He felt Leo hesitate, pressing his nose against his cheek. "Nothing they'd understand."

"Precisely." Edward stroked back a little of his hair, murmuring into his ear. "Things are... developing, Leo. Shifting. Until we understand it completely ourselves, and have a better grasp of the situation, then we can hardly be expected to involve other people. It would be very unwise for us to do so."

Leo was silent for a few seconds, nervous. 

"D-Delph—s-she'll spot it," he said. "She'll see I'm happy now. I'm crap at hiding things from her."

Edward's memory stirred. He could feel the night breeze around them even now, the quiet cover of the moonlight.  _ 'Be what he needs,'  _ she'd said.  _ 'Or be a fucking man, and leave.' _

He carded his fingers softly through Leo's hair.

"Tell your cousin I've made my choice," he said. "I'm content it's the right one." He paused, recalling something else; it made him smile. "This will make no sense whatsoever to you, but... tell her I look forward to wallpaper."

He felt Leo swallow. The prince's fingers gently tightened on his back. "I-I will."

 

*

 

The waitress at the restaurant remembered them; Edward had never seen a happier look of recognition cross somebody's face. While the private room for two was at this moment in use, she suggested they perhaps enjoy a drink at the bar for a few minutes. 

An older couple left, heading out into the gathering gloom. 

Beaming, she showed the two of them upstairs. 

She brought two spoons with Leo's dessert. They shared the same one, trading spoonfuls of crème brûlée across the table, as the candlelight gleamed in Leo's eyes.

 

*

 

The taxi driver had never heard of Cridhe. His sat nav took the postcode after several attempts; he was good enough to drop them just at the end of the drive, rather than risk shuttling them to the door. 

As the car headed away, leaving them together in the darkness, Edward gathered Leo gently into his arms.

"I'm aware that my kind aren't usually trusted with these matters," he said, "but if you have some method of getting us into your rooms, without needing to creep through the house, it might be advantageous on this one opportunity."

Leo shivered. He reached up towards Edward's ear, nosing along his jaw. 

Edward thought at first he was going to whisper something—then Leo's teeth closed gently around his earlobe. They tugged. 

His gasped moan was lost in the sudden rush of space. A careful push nudged him backwards. His back thumped against something—a wall, a surface—and Leo's mouth closed on his own, kissing him, shivering, warm hands roaming hungrily beneath his coat.

The quiet warmth of Leo's rooms cupped around them, as safe as dormice in a nest. Edward found himself overwhelmed at once by the scent, a smell he hadn't previously noticed—old oak and old furnishings, tea, clean cat litter and Leo's fireplace. It made his heart ache. He moaned a little, shaking, and Leo drank the sound from his mouth. He felt Leo's body wrack against him with another deep shiver. 

As their lips parted, Leo gasped against them.

"Sleep here tonight," he breathed. "Please."

Edward's stomach clenched at once. "Leo—" 

"Please," Leo begged. "Please don't go. I need you again. Like last night—please—"

_ This is unwise.  _ "Leo, if my bed isn't slept in—"

"You could leave early," Leo whispered. "Shift the sheets around..." He hesitated, brushing another desperate kiss across Edward's lips. "Please," he whispered. "Don't leave me on my own. Not tonight. I can't bear it."

Before Edward could reply, there came a nervous cough from across the room.

They stiffened as one; together, they turned.

Holding Maggie's refilled biscuit bowl, Caroline flashed them an awkward smile. 

"Good weekend?" she asked.

Edward's fingers turned to rock on Leo's back. He forced them to loosen, inhaling slowly as Leo took an awkward step away from him. His arms slid from around Leo's waist. 

"Caroline," he said, with care, "this isn't entirely how it appears."

Caroline bit into her smile. "With the greatest of respect, Eddie... piss off."

She placed Maggie's biscuit bowl down on her mat, to an appreciative chirp from Maggie. As Maggie buried her face within the bowl, Caroline dusted her hands on the back of her jeans and came over.

"C'mere," she said, wrapping her arms around Leo's neck. She squeezed him tightly. "Don't worry," she murmured, as he tentatively hugged her back, giving Edward a pale look of confusion over her shoulder. "Don't ever worry. Not about me."

She let him go, meeting his anxious smile with a fond kiss of his cheek.

"Now you..." she said, turning to Edward, and gathered him down to hug her. She held him tighter, and for rather longer; her fingers closed in his hair. "You're a berk," she mumbled in his ear. "A prize pillock. Did you even manage a week?"

Edward bit the side of his tongue. "I managed  _ six  _ weeks, thank you."

She chuckled. "You were a better liar at Cambridge, Eddie..."

"In fact, Caroline—as it  _ very _ much happens—"

"I knew," she went on, still holding onto him. "As soon as you came back to the car that first day, I knew... you looked like you'd been hit by lightning. I've never seen you look like that." Her arms tightened. "Look after him," she murmured. "Do it properly, won't you? We all love him to pieces."

Edward's throat gripped. He glanced up over Caroline's shoulder to find Leo now watching them, still nervous, fiddling with his coat sleeve—but smiling in flushed relief. 

Edward held his gaze. 

He smiled, relieved.

"We do," he agreed. He felt his heart strain at the look it produced. "I... never do things by half, Caroline. You know this by now."

Caroline gave him one last squeeze. "Can I pop by tomorrow?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"I've changed Mags's litter tray for her—weighed all the little ones this morning. They're fine. I filled the chart in with the proper coloured pen, as instructed." Caroline kissed him on the cheek. "Good night, berk. Good night, your highness. I'm locking the pair of you in."

Leo's flush deepened. He smiled, his eyes bright. "Th-thank you, Caroline..." 

She dropped him a last wink. 

"See you both in the morning," she said, and headed to the door.

As it closed behind her, and quietly locked, Leo turned to Edward. For a moment, all that could be heard were the eager crunches and little snorts of Maggie at her biscuit bowl.

"Are you okay?" Leo asked, with a breath.

Edward found he didn't need to think. "I am," he said. He watched Leo gently, searching his face for signs of distress. "I hope that you're okay."

"Yeah. Y-Yeah, I think so..." Leo tried a nervous smile. "Worse people to do that in front of?"

"Mm. Far worse." Edward returned the smile, holding out both his hands. "Kindly come here."

As they gathered each other close, they shared a long outbreath. Leo tucked himself tightly beneath Edward's chin.

"Stay," he said, his voice soft. "Just to sleep."

Edward smiled against his hair. "Just for tonight," he said. "I won't be able to every night. I don't want to give you that hope."

"No, I... I understand." Leo nuzzled a little closer. "It's been a big day. That's all."

"It has," Edward murmured. He couldn't really imagine a bigger one. "Would you like a little while with Maggie, before we turn in?"

"Y-Yeah... I want to check on the kittens, too. Make sure they're all okay. I'm sure Caroline's done a great job, I just... y-you know what I'm like."

_ Your gentle heart,  _ Edward thought. _ Your need to care.  _ "Would you object if I used your shower while you do that?"

"Oh—no, not at all..." Leo smiled, a little nervous. "Whatever you need," he said.

Cupping his cheek in one hand, Edward leant down. He kissed the very tip of Leo's nose. 

"Then I believe I'll see you in bed," he murmured.

Leo's breath seemed to catch in his throat; he swallowed. "Can I s-say something to you?" he asked.

Edward stroked a thumb across his cheek, willing his pulse not to kick quite so hard. "Of course."

Leo took a second or two to find the courage.

"I'd live today over and over again," he said, watching Edward's eyes. "All of it. Just to... j-just to be with you. I mean it."

_ God help me.  _ Edward let the words linger between them, giving them the moment they deserved.

"Things are going to change," he said. Leo listened to him, unbreathing. "I can't promise you they'll always be easy..." He brushed Leo's lips with his thumb. "I can promise that I'll be here to see them."

Leo didn't move for a few moments. His throat muscles quietly shifted. 

"I hope you mean that," he whispered. "I r-really do."

Edward felt his heart heave. "Let me prove it."

Leo quietly bit his lip; his eyes flickered to his mouth. "Alright," he said. "I'll let you."

The silence curled around them, gently. 

It was broken by a soft, inquisitive chirp from by their feet.

Edward lifted her up into Leo's arms, watching with happiness as she squirmed to get comfortable. Leo's fingers buried with longing in her fur; he held her tight. 

"Take your time," Edward said, softly. He kissed Leo's forehead as he brushed past. "It's been a long two days."

 


	23. Human Understanding

She answered the door herself on the stroke of nine.

Edward bowed, bringing forth the pleasant smile he'd been practicing since her summons an hour ago. "Good morning, ma'am." 

The queen eyed him beadily, her familiar expression of suspicion firmly in place. 

"I understand you wished to speak with me?" he said.

She huffed. "I've sent Caroline for tea," she said, by way of good morning. Edward inclined his head; she gave a beckoning wave. "In you come."

She led him over to the customary sofa, and with another general wave, gestured for him to sit. 

_ "Le Jardin de l'artiste à Giverny," _ Edward noted, admiring the half-finished jigsaw puzzle laid out across her coffee table. She'd already completed most of the edges. "I didn't know you liked Monet, ma'am."

"Is that who it is?" the queen grunted. She retrieved another piece from the box, studied it with a pursed frown and cast it onto a pile of redder-toned pieces. "Can't stand the easy ones. Waste of time. Can't stand the impossible ones, either... baked beans and coins and peacock feathers. Ridiculous."

She held the box lid towards him, rattling it.

Dutifully Edward scooped out a handful of pieces. 

"Did he behave himself suitably this weekend?" she asked, as Edward turned the pieces over in his palm. His heart gave a quiet, careful thump. "No more hysterics and tantrums, I hope."

Briefly Edward recalled the very first moments of his day: waking in the half-darkness, in a bed far too deep and too big to be his own; the young man there watching him with the shyest of smiles, gazing across the pillow they'd come to share in the night; the voice as gentle and loving as a prayer, murmuring to him in the quiet,  _ hi. _

"I believe it was a great success," he said, his expression clean and his tone cool. "Your grandson was able to reconnect with a number of people he hadn't spoken to in some time. The Rackheath twins were particularly pleased to see him."

He distributed a few pieces across her colour co-ordinated piles.

"The prince seemed comfortable and happy throughout," he went on, half-aware of the queen surveying him closely over the top of her spectacles. "He's returned in excellent spirits."

"Has he now?"

"Mm. A little tired, perhaps, but perfectly content."

"Well... that's good to hear, I suppose." The queen's tongue poked between her teeth as she pressed a piece into the nearest corner, tapping its edge flat. "And the Allhallows were appreciative of his attendance, were they?"

Edward let the slightest pause preface his response. 

"I believe so." He handed her a joined pair of pieces. "For your right-hand corner, ma'am. Third row."

She squinted at the pair. 

"Are you sure?" she said, took it nonetheless, and hovered along the row. Spotting the join, she gave a pleased huff and fitted it into place. "There. Hmmph. Did Leo see much of the Allhallows girl?"

"'The Allhallows girl', ma'am?"

"Their eldest," the queen said, as Edward's heart quietly hardened. "Tall, striking. Looks like the mother. What's her... Rosalind. Rosamund?"

He suppressed the memory of her face, shouting in panic and rage, glimpsed from a distance through a window. 

"Rosalie," he said, without emotion, "and no. The young lady seems to have learned from her indiscretion. She made no attempt to waylay the prince."

He could almost hear the mechanics grind to a halt in the queen's head. She looked up at him with a scowl, her eyes flashing. "What indiscretion?"

Edward raised an eyebrow over his handful of puzzle pieces. "The ugly business back in October, ma'am."

"Business in October?"

"Ahh... well, I can understand your grandson keeping certain unpleasantries from you... I'm afraid the young lady made rather brazen advances towards the prince, in a manner which suggested a considerable degree of previous expertise and confidence. Her reputation precedes her, I've come to understand. Luckily his highness is mature and discerning enough to have declined her particular attentions."

The queen's eyes bugged behind her glasses. 

"The Allhallows girl is a harlot, is she?" she said.

_ 'The truth is rarely pure,'  _ Edward thought,  _ 'and never simple'.  _ "Privately, your majesty, I'm afraid the young lady's building quite the reputation for it."

"Well, I never."

"The prince, of course, has no wish to embarrass her... but alas it seems a number of other young men in the community have received similar advances. How many of them accepted, I can't say. They certainly haven't kept quiet about it."

The queen snorted. 

"An ambitious little hussy then. Dreadful," she added, scooping another handful of puzzle pieces from the box. "We had that type in my day, too. More than a fair few of them. I should have thought the Allhallows raised them better than that... then, rotten apples on every tree..."

Edward inclined his head, his heart burning quietly with triumph. "Hardly future queen material, I fear."

"Quite. Exclude her from your inquiries, Whitby. I shan't have my grandson escorting some enterprising young strumpet up the aisle. That manner of behaviour will not be rewarded, not during my reign."

"Of course not, ma'am."

"He'll be exploring other potential brides this summer, I take it?"

_ He seems more inclined to spend it exploring me, ma'am.  _ "Ah—yes—far more suitable ones."

"Good. Excellent. Perhaps there's hope for the boy yet."

Edward transferred the last piece from his hand into the lavender pile. "I'll be focusing on preparations for his birthday party in the weeks ahead," he said. "I should have a draft of the guest list to present to you very soon."

The queen huffed.

"Even agreed to that, has he?" she said. She considered Edward through her spectacles, bright-eyed, the corners of her mouth just starting to curve. "You've turned out to be quite the influence on him. If we're lucky, he might learn a thing or two."

Edward smiled, holding her gaze. "Give me but time, ma'am."

"Hmm... so long as you don't need too much of it." She clucked her tongue. "Had the exact same trouble with his mother, you know. Quite the trial we all went through."

_ I imagine she didn't enjoy it any more than you did.  _ "Royal matches seem to come with a great many possible complications," Edward offered, with regret. It seemed the cleanest thing to say. "Not an easy business for anyone."

The queen heaved a sigh, as if he couldn't imagine. "We came within a breath of diverting the line around her," she said dimly, sifting through the pieces in her small hand. "Hasn't been done in over a century."

Edward kept his expression empty of interest, even as his pulse picked up. "Not a decision you contemplated lightly, I'll wager."

"Gods, no. But, well, if the bush just won't flower... then at the last minute, she agreed to marry the Unseelie Court boy... Leo came along soon enough. I thought we'd seen the end of our trials, Mr Whitby. I truly did."

"And the line would have passed through your... second daughter? 'Melody', is that right?"

The queen grunted. "I wish it had, some days. At least we'd be spared the aggravation of enduring this tedious performance twice." She sucked her teeth, studying the edge of her puzzle with a scowl. "Melody has thirteen grandchildren of her own now. Eldest's nearly of age. A couple more years, and I might be a great-great-grandmother before Elena is even a grandmother. The indignity."

Edward wondered, privately, if the queen had any true notion of the meaning of the word 'indignity'. He rather doubted it.

"I'll do my very best to spare you that, ma'am," he said.

She held out the box to him, rattling it.

He scooped up another handful of pieces.

 

*

 

At ten past one, there came a gentle knock on Edward's study door. He looked up from his paperwork with hope, feeling Maggie stir against his ankles at the sound. 

"Leo?" he called.

The door creaked open; it was Caroline. 

"Ahh... good morning." Edward smiled, glad to see her, even if it caused his pulse to wobble a little. "Do come in."

Caroline slipped inside, shut the office door and took a seat in front of his desk, sitting on her hands.

"If you're claiming you held off for six weeks," she said, as if continuing a conversation they'd been engaged in all morning, "that means it started this weekend."

Pressing his lips together, Edward took a moment to lay aside his pen.

"Before I utter so much as a word on this subject," he said, folding his hands flat upon the desk, "you should know that things are far more complex than they seem."

Caroline processed this with amusement, lifting an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

It seemed so strange to give this voice. He didn't know if it would ever sit entirely comfortably in his brain—this tradition which still didn't seem to belong to him; this world of which he still knew so little.

"Leo shared the details of his birthmark with me," he began, watching Caroline with great care. "I didn't quite believe it at first. He then showed me, and I'm afraid I have no choice."

She waited, her brow furrowed.

_ Please. For the love of god, believe me.  _ "He... has  _ my _ mark, Caroline," Edward said. "The heart shape on my arm. He has precisely the same shape, in the same position and colour. They are identical."

Caroline's mouth opened. 

It closed a moment later, her brain visibly rebooting. 

"Identical?" she said.

"Unsettlingly so." Edward held her gaze. "Regardless of what the matching marks tradition is meant to indicate or signify... an instance of it has occurred between the two of us."

Caroline searched his face, overwhelmed. "Eddie... Eddie, that seems—" 

"If you could see the marks, you'd believe it too."

"Are you sure they're not just similar?"

"No. There's no possibility it could be coincidence. The fullness of what it means remains unclear to me. I imagine I'll find out, in time." 

Saying it aloud, to another person—to a sensible person, like Caroline—made it feel almost painfully real. Then, Edward supposed if he'd learnt anything these past five weeks, it was the futility of denying what must be addressed. 

"I've seen Leo do other things that defy human understanding," he added, watching her smile slightly. "You must have seen things too. You've been here long enough."

"I have," she admitted. She pulled at the corner of her mouth. "I've never heard of this happening with a human, though."

"Nor has Leo. I daren't make wider inquiries, lest they find their way back to the queen..." Edward glanced down at his papers, pressing the tip of his tongue into his cheek. "Then, the most it would do is confirm something that needs little confirmation."

Caroline's forehead wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

Edward took a second or two to gather the words into place. 

"Since I laid eyes on Leo," he said, "I've experienced a... a very powerful need to make him happy. It's been rather hard to bear at times. It seems to me there's now an explanation for that. Perhaps it's too much for you to believe, Caroline—and that's your right."

He glanced up at her, imploring her without words at least to try. 

"And perhaps it doesn't seem to justify embarking on a very risky course of action," he said, "but between ourselves, I needed no justification. I can't tell you I entered into an intimate relationship with Leo because a mark on my arm told me to do so. I... did it because I adore him, Caroline. He is a remarkable young man who deserves to be happy. This weekend, he reached to me for comfort. I've now accepted I'm incapable of turning him away."

Caroline listened, processing, her gaze quiet and calm.

Edward went on, wishing his heart could beat just a little more easily.

"This isn't an instance of stupidity," he said. "I know it might seem that way from the outside—but taking Leo into my arms was the best decision I've made since I arrived. If some part of you is appalled with me, then so be it. I refuse to be appalled with myself."

Caroline pulled at her lip. "The queen expects you to get him married," she said.

Edward inhaled, trying to ignore the pulse of discomfort it caused him. "I'm aware."

Caroline searched his face, gentle and unjudging. "What are you going to do?"

Really, he supposed, little had changed in some ways. The safest option would still be to conceal Leo safely in a sexless and diplomatic marriage to someone they could trust—but Leo had never seemed keen on the idea of a diplomatic marriage. He'd probably like it even less now.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Truthfully, I didn't know before." 

"Any ideas?"

He almost didn't dare to go on. "I'm nurturing a quiet hope that his mother and grandmother might agree to divert the line of succession," he said, glancing at Caroline to check her reaction. The corner of her mouth tugged. "Leo would need the strength to be candid with them about his sexuality. He'd need to make them see that his reasons for not marrying are unshakeable. It would obviously take careful handling, but I understand that the queen once considered a similar course when she thought Elena would stay unmarried... 'within a breath' of diverting the line, she told me."

"It's not easy for men in the community if they're gay," Caroline said, uneasily. "Noble boys are a scarce commodity. Scarcer still if they start pairing off with each other. It's... perhaps not as accepted as it should be."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "The alternative would not be easy, either."

"Well... yes, that's true..." Caroline drew a breath, trying on a faint smile. "It's worth a try. Leo's mum might be more sympathetic than his grandmother."

"I thought as such. There would be ways to test the waters. I could suggest I have unconfirmed suspicions, see how she responds..." Edward paused, thinking uneasily. "Of course, if I pursue this course of action, then any hint of impropriety between myself and the prince..."

Caroline's smile faded. She gave him a nod, reluctantly in agreement. 

"This is a dangerous game, Eddie," she remarked.

Edward didn't need her to tell him. "I've... never experienced something of this—" His throat gripped; he let it go. "Leo means a great deal to me. I'll do what I can for him. If I fall in flames, I'll be no worse off than when I arrived."

Fondness lifted the edge of Caroline's mouth. 

"I know you must be tired of hearing it by now," she said, "but I'm sorry this has fallen on you. I'm sorry it's only getting harder."

Edward thought quietly of the young man who'd buttoned his waistcoat for him this morning, smiling shyly as he fastened each small gold button. Leo had reached up on tiptoe to kiss him. He could still feel his own arms around Leo's slim waist, holding him up; he could feel Leo grinning against his smile. 

He drew a silent breath. 

"If the princess royal is willing to support her son," he said, "then all of our troubles will be over."

"Let's hope."

"Mm. Let's."

Caroline sat back in her chair, smiling as she crossed her arms. "I only really came to ask about Lord Allhallows," she admitted. "Then I got thinking on the stairs. Couldn't help myself. I hope you don't mind."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Lord Allhallows?"

"I've only heard half a story from Delphine. I'm dying to know the rest."

"I'm afraid we left rather early. Why? What took place?"

Caroline clucked her tongue, disappointed. "Shame. I hoped you were going to clear up the mystery. Delphine says he vanished about halfway through the night, then reappeared at the end to say goodbye to all the guests... with a black eye."

Edward's eyebrows popped up his forehead. "A black eye?"

"Mm hmm. A real shiner, according to Delphine. Someone had done their best to cover it with make-up."

_ Lord.  _

"Well..." Edward's thoughts flashed full of Rosalie's frightened anger, her desperate twisting to get free of her father's grip. The girl had found considerable new strength from somewhere, if she'd managed to black his eye.  _ Good for her,  _ Edward thought—then recalled her treatment of Leo with a guilty constriction of his stomach. _ An ugly situation all around,  _ he concluded.  _ Far better avoided entirely.  _ "Alas, Caroline, I have nothing new to tell you. I didn't even know he'd vanished."

Caroline eyed him rather wickedly. "Occupied with other things, were you?"

Edward's mouth worked to flatten his smile. "With Leo's welfare."

She held up two pairs of fingers. "'Leo's welfare'," she said, waggling them. "I've heard it called worse."

"Caroline, I'm not sure I'm going to permit that kind of insinuation in my office."

She smirked, entirely unapologetic. "Where is he today?" she asked. "Out?"

"A walk with Delphine," Edward replied. He reached aside for his fountain pen. "If I hear anything more about Lord Allhallows, I promise I'll bring it to your door with a bottle of something."

Caroline smiled, getting to her feet. "A bottle of something French and well-aged, I hope?"

"For you," Edward replied. He gave her a knowing glance. "And your legendary discretion, old friend."

Caroline sparkled at him from his doorway. "Happy paperwork," she said, and headed off with a wink.

Edward waited until he'd heard the main door click shut behind her. He then placed aside his pen, and leant to one side to peer beneath his desk.

Maggie gazed up at him, round-eyed and fascinated. 

_ "Frrrrrrp?" _ she said.

His mouth curved. "I agree entirely, your highness."

Her tail flicked, happily. She began to groom his sock.

 

*

 

At half past four, after a long day of thought and with no sign yet of Leo, Edward finished the last of his coffee for strength. He took his keys from inside his desk drawer, checked Maggie's biscuit bowl and water dish, then locked Leo's rooms and headed to the main staircase. 

He'd never been to these rooms before. He knew his way only from Caroline's maps of the house, glimpsed what felt like many years ago now. The bay window at the end of the corridor looked out over the estate, framing the wide grass lawns and the woodland at its border. As Edward approached the door he needed, the sight of the distant forest felt rather soothing. Out there, somewhere, was Leo. 

With some luck, by the time he returned, Edward might have some small hope to give him—some shape of where the future could lead.

He knocked on the door, clear and friendly, and stood back for the peephole viewer to get a good sight of him. At the point he began to suspect she was out, he heard a key slowly scrape and turn within the lock.

The door opened silently, carefully; she looked out at him with the guardedness he knew so well in her son.

"Hello..." Elena murmured, uncertain. Her hand remained on the door, her eyes round and somewhat worried. "Can I help?"

Edward inclined his head. "Good afternoon, your highness. I wondered if I could have a few minutes of your time?"

She hesitated, considering, then with a wary nod opened the door. 

"Yes—yes, of course," she said. "Please come in."

 


	24. The Bones of the Family

Her lounge reminded Edward of the London house. It had the same quietly impersonal feel of luxury, no knick-knacks or clutter or unbeautiful things to be seen. The decor was desperately tasteful and modern, the furnishings elegant and chosen with care, giving an overall effect of a space with plentiful harmony if little humanity. In a patch of sunshine in one corner, an open bureau with a half-written letter suggested the activity that Edward interrupted. 

She invited him to sit with a hand, then took a seat herself, still emitting an air of quiet concern. Her cashmere jumper matched her praline-coloured couch; her fingernails had been painted the same soft and dusty shade.

Edward offered her a smile, hoping to settle her a little.

"It seems we haven't had much chance to talk," he said.

She returned him a tiny flicker of a smile. "Not yet," she said. He realised with a pang that it was odd to hear her voice uninterrupted; the quiet seemed to hug her words, giving them dignity and weight. She hadn't her mother's sharpness, nor her son's sense of presence—she might have had them, once. "Leo seems to have matured since you joined us, Mr Whitby. I'm very glad to see him attending social events once more."

Edward's heart tugged. "I'm moved to hear it, madam. Your son is a very special young man."

She looked down at her hands, folding them together in her lap. 

"I'll be pleased to see him reach a greater appreciation for his responsibilities," she said, "but..."

"The prince's thoughtfulness and caution are great testament to his character, I believe. The path from nervousness to faith in one's self is very steep, it's true—but it's far better to have an uncertain prince than an impetuous one. I'm glad my task is to give him confidence, rather than take it off him."

The princess smiled a little, huffing. 

"They do tend to hold tight, once they have it. Leo's father certainly—..." She stopped herself, closing her eyes briefly, and changed topic. "I'd like to see Leo gain some faith in himself. Very much."

Edward nodded with a smile. "I'm wholly confident he will. Perhaps sooner than we think."

"I do hope you're right." Elena looked down into her lap once more, drawing a breath. "He has rather more expected of him than most young men, after all. Our family are the lifeblood of our community. Leo is our heart."

_ If we pretend that most organisms have thirteen separate back-up hearts, yes.  _ "I've heard him express his awareness of that. It seems to have occupied a lot of his recent thoughts."

She glowed, gently. "Good," she murmured. Pride suffused her gaze. "The continuation of the Seelie Court has enabled our people to live within the human world, yet retain our sense of identity. Without us the fae might have blended away by now. Our culture would be lost."

Edward listened, nodding gently. He had no wish to stop her; it was good for once to hear her speak.

"He's still a little young to see it," she added, with a weak smile. Edward returned it to her, warmly. "It's... rather easy for the young, I suppose, to look at the world and feel adventurous. It all seems very exciting and accessible. Home begins to appear terribly dull in comparison."

Edward smiled again, offering, "Our young people are driven by nature to discover themselves," he said. "If we're fortunate, they find something worth giving back to the world."

She liked it; her eyes brightened. 

"I try to reassure myself Leo is still discovering himself," she said. "It's a process we can't exactly speed... but, now he has a more suitable influence in his life... I hope this new progress continues for him, Mr Whitby. I truly do."

Edward smiled, infinitely glad to hear it. He was starting to regret not coming to speak with her sooner. As he resettled himself upon her couch, recrossing his legs, he said,

"The prince and I have had a number of very thoughtful conversations over the past few weeks. It seems to me, in some ways, that his reluctance to marry stems not from an ignorance of his responsibilities nor a dismissal of them, but... perhaps an  _ over _ -awareness. A fear that there's an incompatibility between the role to which he was born and the man he is becoming."

Elena's smile flickered. 

"Incompatibility?" she asked. "What... manner of incompatibility?"

Edward had rehearsed this line of thought all afternoon, honing and adjusting it in the back of his mind as he worked. He spoke with gentleness and care, his hands lacing together on his knee. 

"Privately, madam, your son's resistance to marriage has never struck me as stubbornness or immaturity. He seems an otherwise very mature and reasonable young man. From what he's shared with me recently, I've... begun to wonder if it's more a case of preemptive grief."

Elena searched his face. "Grief?" she said. She swallowed, quietly gripping her hands together in her lap. "What are you telling me, Mr Whitby?"

Edward proceeded with the greatest of care.

"The prince hasn't confided anything to me," he said, "and there's every chance I could be mistaken. As his mother, I'm sure you'll have certain instincts as to his inner world... and I hope you don't mind that I've sought your insight on this matter." He held her gaze, gently. "Madam, I've found myself nursing a suspicion that, if he weren't directly in line for the throne, your son... might seek the kind of meaningful relationship which would not normally lead to children."

The princess said nothing for some time, watching him with the same lost and unreadable expression of concern. 

"I don't understand," she whispered at last. Edward's heart squeezed, beating a little harder. "Are you... are you suggesting Leo's incapable of having children?"

"No, your highness," he murmured, willing her to widen her thoughts a little. "I'm sure he's biologically capable. It's more the nature of the bond that in ordinary circumstances he'd seek to forge with another person. With a partner," he added, gently.

"But that won't affect him... will it?" Elena asked. 

A small, strange prickle lifted the hair on Edward's arms. He watched her eyes as she spoke; they didn't move at all from his. He couldn't discern the size of her pupils from their surrounding black iris. 

"Unless I've misunderstood you," she said, "I don't see why the nature of bonds that Leo would or would not forge, if circumstances were different, would ever impact on his ability to have a family... to fulfil his duties."

The prickle spread like silent fire across Edward's shoulders, up over the back of his neck. 

"Perhaps I've miscommunicated," he said. "I don't mean to—"

"Duty forms the bones of the family, after all," she cut across him, and he inhaled himself into silence. "Duty has sustained my genetic line for seven hundred years since we were deposed. Not individual whims. Not personal fulfilment."

Edward kept his mouth closed, listening in growing alarm as she spoke.

"I'm proud that my son understands that," she said, staring at him. "If Leo is grieving some aspect of himself which he's chosen to sacrifice for the good of his family, then... I'm glad. It makes my sacrifice all the more important, Mr Whitby. If Leo has chosen to honour me by adding his private suffering to mine, to ensure that seven hundred years from now our descendents will still walk the halls of this castle, look upon our portraits and say our names with gratitude, then I can only thank you for supporting him in that."

_ God help us all.  _

"Madam," Edward murmured, forcing himself to steady his voice. "I have no doubt whatsoever that the Seelie Court will prevail for many generations to come—that the family, as an institution, will endure—and whether through the descendants of one individual or another, the future of Cridhe is in no—"

She stood up suddenly. 

"I'm so pleased to hear it," she said, her eyes flashing down at him. "You seem such an intelligent and understanding man, Mr Whitby. Such a grateful member of our household. I would be so very, very  _ sorry _ to ever doubt your dedication to your duties."

Slowly, with a long breath in, Edward stood up with her. He could barely hear over the thundering of his heart; he could see nothing else in the room but her face.

"I'll endeavour to give you no reason, madam," he said.

She didn't move. Her eyes had locked into him like talons. 

"I hope you don't intend to dishonour my son's sacrifice by opening this topic with anyone else," she said. "I would find that  _ deeply _ offensive—especially if you were to broach this subject with Leo. Pressing him into questioning his decisions. I would not tolerate such cruelty."

Anger rose like bile in the back of Edward's mouth.  _ You've known. You've known all along. You're his mother, and you brought him into this world, and you'll still see him crushed underfoot just as you were.  _ He looked into her face, his expression as calm as glass, his heart volcanic with silent and breathless rage.

"Your son's happiness," he said, "will always be my—"

"Good," she snapped. "Now, please don't let me keep you. I understand how busy you are with progressing the engagement."

She escorted him to the door without a word, opened it for him and waited, her expression stiff and cold. Pink spots of colour now blazed in her cheeks. Edward stepped through, unable even to muster a  _ 'good afternoon, madam'. _

The door slammed shut before he'd even turned around. Its smart crack echoed along the corridor. She audibly locked it, and silence fell.

Edward walked the length of the corridor in a daze, numb, his head and his heart both ringing with anger. 

_ 'I suffered',  _ he thought, in her voice.  _ 'So shall you'.  _ Every injustice, every dismissal of her feelings, every wound inflicted, she'd chosen to soothe by believing they were good and right—and to prove it, she'd submit her son's life as evidence. Leo, too, would do what was good and right. His monument would be built atop hers, justifying her pain, glorifying her sacrifice. Otherwise all the suffering would have been for nothing.

Weak-kneed with shock, struggling to process the contents of his brain, Edward came down the stairs half-aware of his surroundings. 

He only noticed the figure hiding at the bottom when it was too late.

There came a blur of movement, a sudden tightening of his collar and a lurch as the shadow seized him. Edward's back slammed against the nearest wall before he knew what was happening. He tensed, grabbing for the fists now scrunched in his lapels; they hardened as he scrabbled at them.

Rex's eyes burned black, staring at him from two inches away.

"I think it's time," he breathed, "that you and I had a little  _ chat." _

Edward's heart kicked against his ribs, his chest straining as he tried to unlock Rex's fists. "Unhand me  _ this instant." _

"Or you'll take a swing at me, will you?" Rex asked, his upper lip curling back in a grin. He had livid black bruises across the back of one hand; there was a small cut at the corner of his mouth. "No, no... you're going to stay just as you are, pal... and you're going to listen."

Edward said nothing, staring, attempting to transmit rage from every pore.

Rex drank in the sight of his face, delighted.

"You think you've got it all figured out," he murmured, his eyes gleaming, "don't you, little man? You've had a week or two to poke around... that means you're an expert now. You've picked out all the goodies. You've picked out all the baddies. You know everybody's business like it's your own."

Edward said nothing, waiting.

Rex ran his tongue across his teeth. "You've got it  _ wrong, _ human."

Edward frowned, unsettled by the conviction in his voice. He'd never seen Rex quite so calm. It unnerved him far more than anger.

"You've got it dead wrong," Rex went on, searching his eyes, "and you'd better watch yourself—right? Because I'm now watching you." He bit his lip, smiling; it reminded Edward uncomfortably of Leo. "Have you figured out why they all hate me yet? Why they spend half their time trying to keep me quiet?" 

He leant closer to Edward. 

_ "Because I call it where I see it,"  _ he hissed. Edward grimaced at the hot huff of breath across his face, twisting against Rex's grip. "I might be a forgotten piece of shit in the corner, but I see it all. They can't shift me now—and I don't have a reputation to lose. I don't have fancy friends to impress. I'm the one person in this godsforsaken place who sees everything like it really is, and right now, I'm looking at  _ you." _

Edward swallowed back a mouthful of profanity, reminding himself he was a Cambridge graduate with a brain. 

"How fascinating," he said. His throat seized against the pressure of his twisted collar. He swallowed hard, ignoring the pain. "All this time—you've been an insightful free spirit—and here I was, thinking you're a violent oaf—and a bully—with an inferiority complex the size of a cruise-liner—"

Rex's grin spread from ear to ear. 

"Is that it?" he asked, huffing. His face crumpled with mocking disappointment. "Even I can do better than that. I'm a waste of fucking food, mate. I'm an empty sperm packet. You think there's anything you can say to me I'm not already told ten times a week?"

His face contorted.

"I was twenty-three when they dumped me here," he spat. "Younger than Leo. Happy. Friendly.  _ Free. _ I was a nice kid. They handed me over like the meat delivery, and the second Leo was born, I was done with. Over.  _ Finished. _ They didn't even tell me for eight fucking hours I was a father. They didn't let me hold him. Didn't ask me to name him. Wouldn't let me feed him, wash him, be alone with him. Not once. Not ever. Now I've stuck around like a bad smell for twenty-six years, and if you want an enemy, human, I'm your man. I've got a lot of anger to get out. I'm bored out of my brain. I'd love to be enemies."

"Rex—put me down—"

"So you might want to watch yourself—hmm? Wind your neck in, yeah? Learn to speak to people with respect and keep your hissy little threats to yourself. Otherwise, you and I are going to have all kinds of fucking fun. Do you understand me?"

Edward's pulse hammered against the constriction of his throat; the fabric of his collar twisted ever tighter. "How precisely have I  _ threatened _ you?" he demanded, out of breath.

He couldn't tell if Rex's sneer was meant to be a smile.

"You've not threatened  _ me," _ Rex said, with a huff. "You're not that bloody brave. Nowhere near." His black eyes roamed Edward's face, piercing into him. "You're gay, mate, aren't you?"

_ Christ almighty.  _ "Let me go  _ this instant,  _ Rex—"

"That's a yes. Thought so." Rex tightened his grip, hauling Edward up off his feet. As Edward clutched at his iron-like fists, gasping for air and struggling against the wall, Rex held him in place. "Still listening?"

Edward grimaced, panting.

"You're not going to lay a finger on my son. Not  _ one. _ You hear?" Rex's jaw locked with anger. "He needs a fae boy. His  _ own _ people, his  _ own _ kind, not some pissy little human."

His fists released. As Edward slumped against the door, fighting for air and attempting to wrench open his collar, Rex loosened out his fingers with a wince. He rubbed the bruising on the back of his knuckles, scowling.

"Do we understand each other?" he asked.

Edward's heart lurched with every beat. "You—y-you know—"

"I see everything," Rex reminded him, his lip curling. "And I love my son. I'm not allowed to, but I do." He turned his back. "Put a hand on Leo," he said, "and I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you until you stop."

He vanished without another word, dissolving in an instant into shadow. It whispered away on some unfelt breeze, trailing in long curls in the direction of the stairs.

Edward let his knees give way. 

He sank to the ground, panting hard, and tugged open the knot of his tie for air. As he wrapped both hands around his throat, he shut his eyes. The loss of sight seemed somehow calming; he held onto it, his thoughts throbbing in the quiet.

_ 'Rotten apples on every tree,'  _ he thought.

_ 'Duty forms the bones of the family.' _

_ 'I was a nice kid.' _

 

*

 

Though he tried to return to his desk, Edward couldn't settle. The words on the screen kept replacing themselves with others from the back of his mind. No matter how he tried, he found himself entirely unable to focus; nothing inside this house would stop him thinking. 

In dire need of peace, he retrieved his coat, left his phone behind in the office, and headed out into a thin and feeble rain. 

He intended a single circuit of the estate to clear his head; he then found himself walking between the cherry trees that lined the drive, aching with the need to keep moving. He couldn't block out the memory of the queen, talking to him about indignity; he couldn't stop imagining Rex, Leo's age, dropped off at the house like groceries and left to his fate. 

He couldn't stop hearing Leo's mother, telling him he was an intelligent and understanding man.  _ 'My son's private suffering',  _ she'd called it. Last night, lying together in bed in the darkness, Leo had stroked a hand through his hair and gazed into his face as if trying to map every detail of it to memory. He'd leant close to Edward, his dark eyes closing; he'd shivered with relief as Edward kissed him.  _ 'Good night, Edward...'  _ he'd whispered. He'd twined their ankles together beneath the sheets.  _ 'I love you.' _

Before Edward knew it, he'd reached the woods on the edge of the estate. He paused on the road, gazing into the folds of the trees, and let the quiet of the forest overwhelm his mind. Since first he'd seen these trees, five weeks of spring had passed. Green was now pouring forth from the earth; the day's rain had thrown up the heavy scent of wet leaves and wild garlic. In a few more weeks, there'd be bluebells. 

Everything was changing. 

He breathed it in, watching the rain drip from the underside of leaves. 

_ 'Put a hand on Leo, and I'll hurt you. I'll hurt you until you stop.' _

As he stepped into the forest, Edward let the memory drop from his pockets like a stone. Others tumbled with it: Leo's grandmother, carefully organising her jigsaw pieces; Elena's room without a single photo frame; Rex's eyes as he called himself a waste of food. 

Edward walked. 

He walked until he'd left the memories far behind, until he hadn't the least idea where he was and the air began to grow cool around him. Each time the memories began to return, he let them roll over him and drip from his mind like rain.

Instead, he thought of Leo. 

He thought of the rounded gaze he'd woken up to this morning, Leo's fingers stroking sleepily at his forearm. He thought about their wait in Heathrow airport, slumped on a couch together at the back of a coffee house—just an ordinary couple, reading a newspaper while waiting for their flight, Leo's feet in their scuffed grey sneakers resting beside his handmade brogues. He thought about the rooftop terrace of the museum where they'd stood, looking out across the city together. He felt the breeze steal its way beneath his collar again.  _ 'I get clingy when I... w-when I have a friend.'  _ As he walked, he let his mind walk back to that featureless servant's room in Chester Square, and there he stayed for what felt like several miles, watching over and over as Leo's sleeve came up past his elbow, showing him the truth, showing him something he never thought he'd see: proof, written on someone's skin, that he was needed.

_ 'This is a dangerous game,'  _ Caroline murmured at his shoulder.

Edward's heart seemed to inhale as it answered. 

_ Then I must play to win. _

He walked until the woods began to thin, glimpses of the estate now visible through the furthest trees. The light seemed to be fading in the sky—too early, it seemed, too soon by far. It couldn't possibly be twilight already.

Checking his watch, Edward discovered that it was.

He picked his way through the trees, fixed his heart upon the distant house, and headed towards it through the falling darkness. 

He saw no-one as he let himself in through the front door.  _ At dinner,  _ he thought, silently climbing the stairs.  _ The perfect family, eating together.  _ He undid his coat as he reached Leo's landing, retrieved the tiny brass key from its pocket and told himself he would have to source food from somewhere. He needed to eat, if he was to function. He needed to sustain his own strength, now more than ever.

He fitted the key into the lock, turning it as hope stirred inside his chest.

At the creak of the door, Leo looked around from the couch. He was tucked beneath a familiar blanket, watching something on television with a sharing bag of crisps at his side. 

The sight of Edward opened his face with relief.

"Hey," he said softly, watching as Edward nudged shut the door. "I was starting to worry... you weren't answering your phone..."

Edward locked the door. He tested the handle, ensuring it held, then approached the sofa as he pulled off his coat.

"Did you go for a walk?" Leo asked. He tried a smile. "You should have come with us... Delphine says she's not mad with you anymore. We got all the way to Seton Sands."

Edward tossed his coat over the back of the other sofa.

"I was... thinking of maybe ordering food," Leo said, hesitantly. He watched Edward come closer, his gaze growing nervous. "Get a takeaway... maybe watch something together? Or... or not, if you don't want... I-I don't mind..."

Edward reached for the edge of Leo's blanket. 

As he sagged back against the couch, he found his lap filled at once with a warm and happy prince. Leo's arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, holding onto him with joy as their cheeks stroked. Edward pulled the blanket over to hide them both, tucking it tight beneath Leo's bare feet; Leo's fingertips brushed with hope along his jaw. 

Leaning up, with a pounding heart, he caught Leo's lips with his own.

They kissed until his pulse had slowed, until his skin felt as warm as Leo's, and it seemed as if he'd been here all day.

"Food would be wonderful," he murmured at last; he felt Leo smile against his mouth. "What would you like us to have?"

Leo's smile became a grin. "I don't care," he said, softly. "So long as I can eat it with you."

There came a happy pause, as they smiled into each other's eyes. Edward stole a gentle kiss; Leo's answering shiver lit his heart. 

"Did you have a good day?" Leo asked him, fondly, settling close to be cuddled.

_ Your mother nearly fired me,  _ Edward thought _. Your father nearly strangled me. Both would rather see you dead than in my arms. _

"It... was instructive," he decided. He ran his hands slowly down Leo's back. "I had the chance to speak to Caroline. She knows now that we are—... she's aware of the fullness of the situation."

Leo smiled a little, quietened. "What does she think?"

"She's not aware of any other instance involving a human," Edward said, "but she seems very supportive. I think she'll be a great help to us—and she'll certainly keep it to herself."

Leo bit his lip; he primed a question in his mouth. "And... what do  _ you _ think?"

Edward took a moment to ask himself—to listen, without fear, to the answer that arose. If anything would aid them in this situation, honesty would. They'd struggled too hard and for too long without it.

"I'm still learning what it means," he murmured. "In time, I'll be able to give you a much better answer, I'm sure... but, for now..." He pressed a gentle kiss to Leo's lips. "I believe it means that, whatever happens, it will happen to us both."

Leo's gaze ached, soft with love. 

"Edward..." he whispered.

Edward cupped his cheek.

He couldn't remember ever saying the words to anyone. Even to his parents, this would have seemed a mawkish or unnecessary statement to make. These things had been evidenced through duty, not through words—but he couldn't bear not to say them now. Leo had said them to him; he would learn to say them back. 

He would learn to be what Leo needed. 

He brushed his thumb across the prince's lips, took one more gentle kiss from them, and said, 

"I love you, Leo. I've loved you since our first conversation. I was a fool to try to ignore it... you are glorious."

Leo made a soft, desperate noise. "Edward... I-I love you, too..."  

"Things are unlikely to be easy for us," Edward said, gently, "but it's no reason to hold myself back from you. If anything... it's all the reason I could ever need to stay close to you... as close as I can. I will do that, Leo. I will be here."

"Edward... I..." Leo swallowed, thickly. "I don't deserve you. I-I really don't."

Edward closed his eyes. 

"You deserve the world," he breathed, and felt Leo shudder against him. "I'm going to bring it to you, piece by piece. I promise you." He gathered Leo tenderly against one shoulder, settling him down, and wrapped both arms around him. "I'll start with takeaway food. Have a think what you would like, and I'll order it."

"A-Alright..." Leo shivered again, cuddling into his chest. He tilted his head to gaze at the television screen.

"What are we watching?" Edward asked—then spotted a familiar Cambridge court. "Ahh... at long last."

He felt Leo grin against his neck. "You did promise we'd watch it together."

"So I did. I'm very glad to see my promise has come true." 

"Me too." Leo stirred, resting a hand over Edward's heart. "I want to see you cry at the end."

Edward couldn't hold in a laugh; he stroked his fingers through the scruff of Leo's hair, enjoying its tufts and curls. They were beautiful. "No doubt you shall," he murmured. "Have I missed much?"

Leo shifted, reaching beneath the blanket to retrieve his bag of crisps. 

"No," he said, as the packet crinkled, "not much. It's only just started."

Edward smiled.  _ So it has,  _ he thought, as Leo reached up to feed him a crisp.

 


	25. Where I'm Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *discreetly polishes story's E-Rating*

Halfway through the special features, Edward became aware of a distinct slowness to the breath against his neck. He smiled to himself, retrieved the remote control from the arm of the couch and switched the screen off into darkness.

"Leo..." he murmured. He pressed a kiss to the prince's hair, his eyes closing over with love. _Sound asleep,_ he thought. _Safe and warm in my care. Just where you should be._ "Leo... I'm afraid I need to leave you soon."

Leo stirred, emitting a sleepy sound of discontent; his fingers closed in the fabric of Edward's shirt.

"Please," he whispered, nuzzling against Edward's neck. His grip tightened. "Please don't go."

Edward's heart gave a distinct pull; he could almost feel Leo's fingers gathered round it. 

"Two nights was already a risk," he said, softly. "I can't countenance a third... if somebody sees me leaving your rooms—"

"Your office is here," Leo mumbled, shifting up onto his lap and turning to sit astride him. "And you always start working early..." As his gentle hands slid up the sides of Edward's neck, it cut Edward's breath for a moment. His pulse stuttered at the whisper of Leo's fingertips. "Unless someone's watching the door every second of the evening, they won't know you didn't leave. Please. Please just come to bed."

The soft, sleepy warmth of his mouth sent a shiver tumbling down Edward's spine. He let his eyes flicker shut, uncertain when he'd reached for Leo's waist, and for some time nothing seemed to exist outside the gentle pleasure of this slow and quiet kissing—Leo's weight, comfortable on his lap; Leo's t-shirt, soft against his palms. Every time they did this, he felt years melt away from his life. He was twenty-five again within moments, kissing Leo with all the restless love of two people with many decades ahead of them. The slim curves of Leo's sides beneath his hands made him ache; the shy swipe of Leo's tongue between his lips tightened his stomach. _Just a few more minutes,_ he thought, his fingers flexing. _Just a little longer._

They kissed until the gentle shifts of Leo's hips began to take on a rhythm; Edward reached down, catching and holding still.

"You will work yourself up..." he warned in a murmur. Leo gave a stuttered huff, shivering and catching his mouth again; their tongues slid together, fingers tightening in his hair. As Leo rocked his hips forward once more, pressing a distinct hardness into Edward's stomach, he steeled his grasp on Leo's hips and broke the seal of their kiss. "My case in point..."

"Come to bed," Leo breathed, his voice thick. "Please—" He drank another kiss from Edward's mouth with a shiver, and this time ground his hips downwards. Edward stiffened, biting back a groan; he braced his heels against the floor. "Please—please, please. Please come to bed. Please sleep here. Please."

"L-Leo—"

"I want you—I-I know you want me, I can feel—"

"Leo—"

 _"Please,"_ Leo gasped against his mouth, trembling, and began to rub his swollen cock against Edward's stomach for relief. The whimpered sound he let out kicked Edward's heart into double-time. "Ohh—oh f-fuck—please—"    

_Christ, where is my resolve? Where is my restraint?_

"Leo—" Edward managed, and though he'd tried to sound firm, the rhythmic shifting of Leo's weight in his lap had dropped his voice into his throat. Leo's name left him as more of a groan, far too breathy to be a command, and the answering moan tightened his groin. He dug his fingers into Leo's hips and tried again. "Leo, unless you _sincerely_ wish to be taken to bed and seen to, I suggest you g—"

The sad remains of his threat vanished, muffled and lost forever in Leo's frantic kiss. 

_Right._

Edward inhaled, shifting just enough to get purchase on the couch behind him. With all his strength he managed to tip Leo sideways off his lap, bundle him up in the bloody blanket and hoist him into the air, laughing. The squirms and giggled protests were all play; Leo's arms clung tight around his neck, his cheeks flushed with pleasure. The blanket trailed behind them as Edward carried him across the lounge, nudged the door of Leo's bedroom with his shoulder, and took him over to the bed.

"Promise me," Edward said, laying him down atop the soft grey covers. Leo's hands tightened in the front of his shirt; they pulled him onto the bed. "Promise me this isn't ahead of time..."

Leo shuddered, reaching up to catch his mouth. 

"Do you want to know how often I lie here thinking about you?" he breathed between kisses. Edward's stomach clenched, his pulse quickening with the hot flash of their tongues. "Sometimes you've been right through that wall, working late—sitting at your desk—and I've had to bite down in case you hear me—"

"Leo—"

"—and then I've started fantasising," Leo shivered, easing open the highest buttons of his shirt. "Dreaming about it... you listening to me, hearing me moan out your name—realising—and you come through and just lean over me and pull my legs right around you and push into me—"

_"Leo—"_

Leo's back arched up from the bed, panting as he struggled with Edward's buttons. "And you're mine," he gasped, "y-you're mine, you're all mine—if anyone in this whole world is mine, it's you, and I _want_ you, and I love you, _please—"_

The words smashed through Edward's resolve with the force of a sledgehammer. He felt it shatter beyond repair in an instant, turned to glittering dust and blown away. Their mouths crushed; Leo moaned into the kiss, high-pitched with need. He squirmed as Edward pushed his weight on top of him, pinning him into place atop the covers. 

As their erections settled, nuzzling through their clothing, Leo's moans cut into whimpers. 

 _How in heaven's name did you bite down?_ Edward thought distractedly, plunging his tongue into Leo's mouth just to hear another breathless pleading squeak. If Leo was this vocal alone, these walls must be thicker than he'd thought. _Perhaps worth testing,_ he added to himself, and filed it away to the very back of his mind, now busy tilting Leo's jaw with one hand to kiss him more deeply. _Mine. All of you, mine._ He felt Leo's hands ruck his shirt eagerly free from his trousers; they delved beneath the hem, shaking. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt someone stroke his skin with longing—with need. It took his breath. Leo's hands roamed his bare back and his sides and his stomach as if nothing on this earth had ever felt so good to touch. The prince's excited sounds only grew as he found more and more of Edward's body to touch, and for the longest time it was sublime simply to kiss and undo each other's buttons and touch, loosening clothes to pet the flushed skin beneath. Leo's stomach felt as soft as velvet; his back arched from the bed as it was stroked. Edward pulled the prince's t-shirt over his head by means of his teeth then descended without pause upon his prize, discovering within seconds that Leo's collarbones were a delight to nuzzle and suck and kiss, his nipples the same, his ribs, his neck. Everywhere made him whimper. Everywhere made him pant and plead. He was magnificent.

By the time Leo shakily twisted open the fastening of his trousers, the relief of pressure on Edward's cock was enough to drag a groan from his throat.

"Oh, fuck," Leo whispered against his mouth, trembling, lowering the zip. He reached behind the parted fabric to cup Edward's cock through his underwear. "Oh— _fuck,"_ he gasped, massaging through instinct. Edward felt his ego ignite in a hot white flash. "Oh, s-shit—shit, you're big—"

_God almighty._

Edward reached down, laying his shaking hand on top of Leo's—slowing, guiding, directing his touch through the fabric. 

Gazing up into his eyes, Leo swallowed. Edward watched him inhale as he drew his focus onto learning this touch, this slow motion—and for the first time in their lives, with a rush to the heart, he realised Leo's eyes were not black at all.

They were the deepest, darkest brown.

"I-I love you..." Leo whispered to him, flushing.

Edward's breath gently caught. He wrapped Leo's fingers slowly around his cock, encouraging them to stroke in rhythm. 

"You're doing wonderfully," he murmured, and the expression which opened over Leo's face made his heart and his groin tighten as one. Leo shook, now rubbing the fabric of his briefs with care against his cock; Edward gently kissed his mouth. "If you want to stop—"

Leo's breathy laugh raised a grin. 

"We're not stopping," Leo said, pink-cheeked and grinning in return. Their noses rubbed side-by-side; Edward let his eyes close, overwhelmed by fondness. "We're not stopping for anything," Leo breathed, gripping him through his underwear, and he couldn't fight the need to sway his hips into the feeling. Pleasure ached from root to tip as Leo stroked him. "I need to see you come. I'm not kidding. I need to know what you sound like."

Edward felt his soul groan in response. He dipped his mouth to Leo's throat, nudging beneath his chin, and plied his gorgeous warm neck with his teeth as Leo handled him. At the point Leo freed his cock and balls gently from his underwear, his pulse surged and he bit down; Leo's fractured whimper tugged at his heart. 

He soothed the mark he'd left on Leo's shoulder with his tongue, bathing it.

"F-Fuck," he heard Leo whisper, shivering as he palmed Edward's cock. The pass of his bare fingertips over the hot skin, feather-light, up and down, had Edward swallowing in seconds. "I... I-I kinda want you in my mouth... is that okay?"

 _Oh Jesus._ "Have you ever—"

"No. Never." Leo hesitated, gently touching the very tip of his cock—rounding it with his fingertips. "Is it... easy?"

Edward drew a long breath. He eased back from Leo's neck, cupping his cheek and pressing their noses together. 

"It comes with practice," he murmured. "From experimenting, in the knowledge of what you yourself enjoy." A thought occurred; he smudged his thumb over Leo's flushed lower lip, watching them part for him. "Stay as you are," he said softly, pulled a pillow from the top for Leo's head, and stole a gentle kiss from his mouth. "Tell me if you're uncomfortable at all." 

He lowered himself down the bed, kissing as he went.

As he eased his fingers around Leo's waistband, Leo breathed in hard.

"Oh, gods," came the whisper, then again a little louder as Edward gently pulled downwards, freeing him from pyjama bottoms and underwear in one smooth stroke. "Oh, _gods—"_ He slipped the fabric down Leo's legs, off his ankles and left it discarded on the floor, then crawled back up the bed.

"It's alright to hold my head," he murmured, placing his lips to Leo's bare stomach. Leo nervously touched his hair with a hand. "That's it... it's alright to pull, if you need... try to warn me if you're close, but don't worry too much. Just feel this time. Learning later."

Leo's fingers curled in his hair, shaking. "E-Edward..."

"I'm here," Edward said, tilted his head and applied his tongue in a slow sweep along the side of Leo's cock. He felt the prince convulse with a gasp. He kept his gaze up the bed as he repeated the motion, crowning the head with a lazy kiss. Leo bit down, huffing. "Everything's alright," he soothed, wet the join of his lips, and sank Leo's cock in between them.

He took each stage slowly—far more slowly than necessary, gliding through every motion six or seven times over to let Leo properly feel. When Leo whimpered, fingers tightening on the back of his neck, he made it ten or twelve. He kept watch up the bed as he worked, monitoring quietly in the back of his mind—Leo's breathing thickening, the twitches of his hips growing restless, the deeper tremors of his stomach muscles. Edward could only half-remember the first person to ever do this for him. He'd been rather drunk at the time, but clear-headed enough to feel strangely let down and disenchanted. Years had gone by before he understood; it hadn't really been sex. It certainly hadn't been intimacy. It was a bid to make him orgasm, enacted with a sort of pornographic efficiency that left him wondering why the rush to get it over with. He'd been eighteen, longing for closeness; he wanted to be licked, stroked, explored. He wanted to pull on someone's hair and writhe. 

 _All for you,_ he thought, as Leo's hips canted upwards into his mouth with a cry. Protective love burned through his chest. _Everything you want. Everything you need._ Leo was desperately easy to tend to in this way, curved and not overly long, permitting Edward's tongue the space it needed to coil and flash and sweep. It felt like Leo rather belonged in his mouth. Each glance up the bed showed him a debauched and pink-cheeked angel, stomach trembling, lip bitten, panting as he struggled not to squirm with enjoyment. 

It was a sight he'd never forget.

The fingers curled in the back of Edward's hair soon began to shake. They petted him as he worked, a voiceless plea for more. He gave them more, letting the rhythm of his mouth grow stronger and more steady, hardly aware of his own body or his mind anymore, until Leo's pitched and aching moans grew tight. All the muscles began to stiffen in his chest and his thighs; his grip clenched.

Edward slowed the gliding of his mouth. He eased his jaw out to loosen the rhythm, letting it settle down to nothing, then slid Leo's cock very gently from his mouth. 

He pressed quiet kisses down its length, spacing them out with care. 

Leo panted in the silence, overcome. His back unwound from its arch, sinking back to the bed.

"Almost?" Edward murmured, reaching up to stroke across his stomach.

Leo shuddered. His grip freed itself shakily from Edward's hair, his cheeks flushed as he glanced down the bed. 

"A-Almost," he breathed. Longing and love flooded his expression. "I like that—I-I like—f-fuck, that felt amazing..."

Edward's heart glowed. _Good._ He began to make his way up the bed, taking the time to place small kisses on each strawberry-pink blotch arisen on Leo's chest and stomach. This was the first time he'd brought Leo to within a breath of coming; it certainly wouldn't be the last.

As he came level with the crook of Leo's forearm, he paused. He let his head tilt; he stroked the deep pink heart there with the tip of his nose, honouring it. 

Leo's desperate shudder slowed his pulse.

"Come here, please?" the prince said, panting as he swept the mark with his tongue. 

Edward obeyed. He rose up to kiss Leo, gently at first, then let Leo's shaking fingers in his hair deepen the connection of their mouths. As they kissed, he felt the prince's other hand stroke down his chest, caressing his body beneath his open shirt. 

Leo tugged gently at his trousers. 

"I want these off," he whispered against Edward's lips, shivering. The flush in his cheeks deepened. "I-I want all of it off. And I want to try that—for you. I want to learn."

Edward's stomach ached at once. 

"Not everyone enjoys doing it," he warned, and felt his cock twitch as Leo bit into his lip.

"I think I might..." With a gentle push, Leo nudged Edward over onto his back. "I-I think about it a lot," he said, as he loosened Edward's trousers and underwear, pulling them gently down his legs. Edward tipped his head back against the bed, closing his eyes. "Licking you, I mean... putting you in my mouth..."

_God help me._

"I can just explore for now, can't I?" Leo whispered. He climbed on top of Edward, settling between his legs, and the smooth slide of his bare skin across Edward's body wrenched a groan from his mouth. Leo caught it with his own, shivering. He kissed the sound; he tugged at Edward's lower lip as he released him. "If I don't like it... well, I'll tell you. We'll do something else."

Edward's heart hammered in his throat. Leo kissed his chin, then leant beneath it to nuzzle under his jaw, planting soft and shy kisses along his neck. He swallowed, enjoying the contact; his hands flexed on Leo's waist.

"Leo..." he sighed; the name felt good to say. His veins seemed to sigh with it, claiming it at last. _"Leo..."_

Leo shivered, breathing it in. His nose brushed along Edward's collarbones, following their dip to kiss over his heart.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered. "I mean it. I want to feel it."

He kissed lower still, warm breath ghosting across Edward's stomach; Edward felt the muscles there tighten at once. Shy fingertips whispered across his hipbones, settling into place as Leo dotted a ring of gentle kisses around his navel.

"Leo..." he groaned to the ceiling, half-warning, half-plea, and made the mistake of lifting his head from the bed to look down.

A pair of round black eyes gazed up at him, as soft as the bed beneath his back, warm as the lamplight and now bright with intention.

_Oh, lord._

"Take your time," Edward warned. 

Leo tilted his head, allowing the head of Edward's cock to rasp across the corner of his mouth. He felt his balls twitch at the sight. "Isn't it a bit like cake?"

Edward's brain sparked. "Like—"

"There isn't such a thing as _bad_ cake," Leo murmured, and without warning swiped the wet pad of his tongue over the head of Edward's cock. Edward dug his fingers into the covers beneath him. "There's _good_ cake, and there's _better_ cake... but you have to do something seriously wrong to make _bad_ cake..."

"Oh— _C-Christ—"_  

As Edward's fingers wove into his hair, Leo shuddered. He arched willingly into the pull, opening his mouth to let Edward's cock slide against his offered tongue, and his eyes lulled shut with immediate contentment. A shiver of obedience passed beneath Edward's grasping fingers. 

Leo began to lick him, gently—soft, eager little flashes which tightened Edward's stomach to half its size within seconds. The combination of both sight and sensation was enough to curl his toes. All he could do was watch, pet the back of Leo's neck with slow encouraging circles, and pry his free hand into the covers underneath him.

It was heaven just to watch Leo explore. The look of reverent fascination was possibly going to kill him. The experimental strokes and swirls of Leo's tongue felt magnificent, the idle winding motion back and forth from root to tip, over and over. He teased the crown with soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses, never taking Edward more than half an inch past his lips. It was maddening; it was divine. It left Edward weak to the bone. Now and then, Leo's gaze lifted to study his reaction to something. Each flash of eye contact felt almost shockingly intimate—as sexual as Leo's lips gliding the length of his cock, as his nose nuzzling into Edward's scrotum, his careful fingertips stroking his abdomen as it heaved.

Edward managed to restrain himself until he couldn't cope a moment longer with the delicious, coy little licks. He shifted, letting out a breathy groan, and on Leo's next warm-eyed swirling of the head of his erection, he slid his fingertips beneath Leo's jaw and gently pulled.

"Slowly," he said. His voice rasped in his throat. "Not all of it."

Leo hummed. The sound thickened and then muffled as he sank his mouth around Edward's cock, gazing into his eyes all the while.

_Oh, god._

_God help me._

He couldn't take much—unused to the sensation, his virginal gag reflex—but what he could take felt more than enough. He rubbed his tongue slowly from side-to-side as he watched Edward, then trialled a cautious withdrawal and re-entry, his gaze flickering slightly with enjoyment. Edward moaned, stretching, and sank his teeth into his lower lip. He circled his thumb against Leo's cheek in reward. Flushing, Leo leant into his hand; he nuzzled Edward's palm as he tried another slow and steady bob, letting Edward guide him, relaxing into his hold. 

_Mine._

It almost panicked Edward to think it— _my Leo, my lover—mine alone—_ but it felt so right: the two of them here, this bed, the animal pleasure of being stroked and licked and slowly warmed in Leo's mouth. Nobody in the world knew this was happening. He could breathe, and feel, and just be Leo's for a while, let Leo gently investigate his body, discover what he liked, what made him twitch and groan and arch his hips up from the bed in need. They were as alone as they'd been on their first meeting in the forest, as alone as on the shore at Seacliff Beach. Nobody would know.

_And nobody will hurt you, disrespect you._

_Nobody will ever harm you. Not while I'm here._

Leo seemed almost liquidly content, happy for the chance just to try this. His eyes had closed; something deliciously submissive softened his expression. There seemed no urgency in the movements of his mouth, no nervousness, no underlying drive to get this right and make Edward come. He was just quietly enjoying his mouthful. He responded at once to every guidance of Edward's hand: taking slower or shallower as Edward wanted, holding for a few moments to lap obediently just beneath the head.

Edward couldn't bring himself to rush. He couldn't bear to coax Leo into any speed which would end this. The light flutters of tongue and the slow purpose of his movements took longer to heat Edward's blood, but it brought a comfort and quietness he found almost healing. This was not a show of skill. It was a shy indulgence of instinct—and it was perfect.

After some time, Leo began to moan softly around his cock, plaintive and submissive little sounds. 

His breathing now deep, Edward raised his head from the pillow to look, discovering the cause.

One shy hand had disappeared from his stomach. It had been relocated between Leo's thighs instead, gently squeezing and palming his own scrotum for relief. He didn't dare to stroke his own cock—too shy for that. _God help me._ With each slow slide down Edward's erection, Leo tugged himself and whimpered, rocking forwards into the feeling. _Full and heavy. Wanting._

Edward shuddered.

He stroked both his hands around Leo's jaw, pulling gently upwards.

"Leo," he whispered. "Leo, stop—"

Leo made some muffled sound of protest, swiping desperately with his tongue.

 _"Leo—"_ Edward said, his voice breaking, and at last Leo disengaged his mouth. 

He looked up in round-eyed concern, his lips pink, his hair ruffled from Edward's hands. "Did I hurt you?"

Edward's heart strained. "No," he breathed, reaching for Leo. "No, not at all. Now come here this instant."

Leo obeyed. He settled on top of Edward's body, trembling, and let out a shaky squeak as Edward's hands curled either side of his hips. Edward guided them into alignment, cock-to-cock; he reached up to kiss Leo's mouth. Their erections rubbed, slick with saliva from Leo's mouth, and with a whimper Leo responded to the gentle pull of Edward's hands. He began to rock, grinding through instinct in time with their lazy kiss.

Every nerve in Edward's body burned. He dragged a breath through his nose, swallowing, and used the brief skip in kissing to speak.

"That's it," he breathed. "There. Just like that."

"Oh—" Leo's expression tightened. _"F-Fuck—"_

"Mm hmm... that's it, sweetheart. Keep going for me. You're doing so well."

Leo caught his mouth, panting, and gripped hard at both his shoulders as he rubbed. The nervous thrusts of his hips felt as perfect as his mouth, pure instinct, pure feeling, the biological urge to fuck and chase and come, and each one flashed a little surge of friction just beneath the head of Edward's cock. The smallness of the sensation was incredible. Each tiny bite of pleasure blurred with the molten, easy softness of Leo's lips. Edward felt his breath begin to thicken; he felt his pulse surge. 

_Show me—show me, share with me—come for me—good boy—that's it—_

Leo cried out into his mouth.

 _Good boy,_ Edward thought, his heart thundering, then realised he'd gasped it aloud. Leo's face contorted. He whined, sobbing some incoherent clutch of sounds against Edward's mouth, and continued to rut even as wet heat spattered Edward's stomach. 

The flood of new slickness was all he needed. His orgasm ruptured from the pit of his stomach with a hot and clenching force that twisted him first into breathless silence, arching up, his teeth gritting. The pleasure had him groaning at pitch as it broke; wave after wave of wet relief soaked through his system. He held tight to Leo's body as the feeling washed through him, shuddering, listening to Leo's whimpers of relief.

As he came down, he found himself panting into Leo's hair. Leo was clinging to him, more tightly wrapped in his arms than he'd ever been. The mess of their orgasm made the press of their abdomens slick; Leo's back had filmed with sweat beneath his hands.

_Jesus—J-Jesus Christ—_

Edward filled his lungs, pleading with his heart to slow down.

"Are you alright?" he gasped, stroking Leo's hair back from his ear. He kissed its shell, his eyes closed tight. "Leo, tell me you're alright..."

Leo trembled. He pressed his cheek to Edward's, hot-skinned and short of breath. 

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes... o-ohh my gods, _yes..."_

Edward exhaled in a rush, unable to withhold it. "Promise me I didn't take advantage of you," he said.

Leo's startled, breathless laugh lifted his heart to heaven. 

"Take advantage of me forever," he begged, took Edward's jaw in both his hands and shifted to kiss him. "Please. Every night. Oh gods, I love you—"

The kiss was almost dreamlike as they caught their breath together, hazy, soft and perfectly slow. Leo's hands didn't leave Edward's face. They cradled him, kissing him, and Edward found an uncharacteristic rush of emotion tightening his throat. His arms stayed wrapped around Leo's body, his pulse still heavy and quick. The minutes idled by, hormones thundering and then soothing—and by the time their lips came apart, he found himself capable of speech once more.

"We might want to share a shower," he said, as the shift of Leo's body revealed the dampness between them had cooled from slippery to sticky. 

Leo shivered against his mouth, stealing another sated kiss. 

"I have a bath," he whispered. "Come get clean with me... let me wash you..."

 

*

 

"So much for chivalrous restraint," Edward murmured.

He felt Leo grin against his shoulder, tracing the outline of his birthmark with a wet fingertip. 

"You were very chivalrous," the prince remarked. Their bare legs twined beneath the surface. "You took excellent care of me... it would have been cruel to make me wait another second."

Edward smiled, helpless to resist. He stroked Leo's hair back from his forehead. 

"I hope it lived up to at least some of your expectations," he said.

Leo's lips pressed gently to his jaw. The hot water swirled around them, the pomegranate-scented steam playing through his senses, and he found his eyes closing of their own volition. 

"It was perfect," Leo whispered. Edward's heart squeezed gently. "It was wonderful. I don't know if 'thank you' is traditional, but... I'm glad. I'm glad you could be the first." His fingers soothed over Edward's birthmark. "Honestly, I... I don't know if I can imagine there ever being someone else. I don't want there to be anybody else."

_God above._

His heart pounding, Edward laid a tiny kiss on Leo's temple. 

"I belong to you," he murmured. He felt Leo's shiver as if it were his own, spilling through his veins like light. "I belonged to you before we knew about the marks, Leo. I belonged to you before we made love. I belong to you now. I can't comprehend what would ever change that."

Leo's toes curled against his ankle beneath the surface. 

"I love you," he whispered. He rested an open hand upon Edward's chest. "Promise you won't ever go."

Edward felt his heart give a dizzy, quiet thump. He kissed Leo's forehead again, tangling his fingers through the damp black curls of his hair. 

"I will never go," he said. "I promise, Leo. I love you too. No matter what comes, I would rather be here, where I'm needed, than anywhere else in this world."

As Leo nuzzled into his neck, overcome, Edward wrapped both arms around him. He cradled Leo gently in the water, stroking the wet shine of his back, and slowly rocked him from side-to-side.

Catching the first broken breath against his neck, he tightened his hold.

"Everything is alright," he whispered. Leo shook against him, crying without a sound as Edward rocked him in the water. "Everything will always be alright... mm? You have nothing to fear... I'm here now, sweetheart."

Leo's voice broke.

"I-I'm so happy," he whimpered. His arms tightened around Edward's waist. "I mean it. I'm so happy right now I could die. Please don't ever go." 

Edward's throat gripped.

"If I ever go, Leo," he whispered, "you'll be there with me. And wherever you go, I will be. I swear to you."

Leo leant up to kiss him, shaking. 

He brushed his fingers through Leo's hair; he let Leo drink all he wanted from his lips, nothing withheld, nothing kept. They kissed until they sank deeper into the water together, their chins just an inch or two above the surface. The whole world became a sanctuary of warmth and steam, gentle hands on each other's skin, the brushing of their lips. Nothing else existed. Nothing mattered.

"Edward?" Leo finally murmured, in a voice of request. 

Edward felt his heart rise up to serve. "Mm?" he hummed, stroking Leo's back beneath the water. "What is it?"

The prince's nose rubbed against his own. 

"S-Stay until morning," Leo whispered. His fingers tightened their hold. "Please."

Edward inhaled. 

With a smile, he surrendered. "Just one more night," he said.

 

 _The End_  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, reader. <3 Thanks for taking a chance on book one of of The Fairytale Series. There's a lot left for Leo and Edward to overcome in their life together, and I'm very grateful to you for being here at the start of their journey. 
> 
> This work won't be available on AO3 for long. If you'd like to keep it in its current form, please make sure you download it.
> 
> Thanks again - and thanks especially to all those readers leaving comments and kudos. I appreciate your encouragement and your support so much. You guys are the best.
> 
> All my love,  
> Moth. x

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover art for "Fairytale", by Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18430325) by [EmptyBucketOfFucks (EowinSymbelmine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EowinSymbelmine/pseuds/EmptyBucketOfFucks)




End file.
